


Providence

by rachelladeville



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Baby in a Trenchcoat, Bottom Cas, Bottom Dean, Creature Fic, DCBB, DCBB 2016, First Time, Gay Sex, Happy Ending, Impala Sex, M/M, Magical Realism, Newly Human Cas, Small instance of cheating between Dean and a minor character prior to meeting Cas, Tags Contain Spoilers, Top Cas, Top Dean, Viewing pornography, Writer Dean, instance of het sex, mentions of past cheating, mild spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 20:56:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 47,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8224586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachelladeville/pseuds/rachelladeville
Summary: Dean’s never been one for self-reflection or awareness. Often his actions are as much a mystery to him as they are to those around him. For example, this vacation. He should be on a beach somewhere drinking from coconuts and getting laid. But he’s not. He’s road tripping up the Pacific coast alone, in the off season, recreating an RV trip that his family took when he was a boy. Perhaps he’s seeking to reconnect with his deceased parents. Maybe he’s just feeling nostalgic. But it’s impossible to ignore his desire to return to the area. When he takes shelter at a quaint seaside inn, Dean’s compulsion to explore the lighthouse and cliffs nearby is undeniable. What he finds there will explain a lot. It will also test his grip on reality and change his life forever.





	1. Being Dean Winchester

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my co-conspirators on this fic. A big thank you to MoniJune for all her work on this story and for being a fantastic editor and so much more! Thanks to Zoelily for feedback, encouragement and general awesomeness. Thanks also to Cole, the up and coming artist who put so much thought into the designs and created such cool illustrations to go with this fic. You can find him at [Tumblr](http://koisocks.tumblr.com/)
> 
> The art for this fic can be viewed [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8235163)

 

Dean parks the Impala out front at the Sea Lion Caves. He sits for a moment and looks around before getting out of the car. The place is far more of a dumpy tourist trap than he’d remembered. He’d completely forgotten the cheesy sign with the cartoon image of fat seal on it. He’d been seven years old the summer he’d been brought here and had harbored no judgements about such things then. As a child he’d been filled with excitement at the prospect of being out of the vehicle for a while and had run out ahead of his parents down the long walkway that lead to an observation point.

When he’d reached it, he’d gazed out over the sea – waters roaring and foaming. He’d longed to leap over the rail, scuttle down the steep cliff face and swim out into the frothing water. But no, that wasn’t allowed. He’d enjoyed himself here though. As a child, Dean had been excited about the journey itself rather than being focused on the idea of what they’d come here to see. He barely remembered that there had been an elevator ride. But here it was. Visitors had to get down from the top of the cliff, where he’d parked, to sea level where the animals lounged.

As an adult taking the trip, his mind focused on things that his child-mind hadn’t taken an interest in. Like the pamphlet that explained this elevator was plummeting down through 200 feet of solid rock. When the elevator doors opened at the bottom, he stepped out and continued along the hallway that had been carved from bedrock. It was a very civilized cave. Dry. Well lit. Handrails.

Soon, his nose picked up on the change from dank air to moist and salty air. He began to hear the sounds of monsters that had frightened his younger self. A single seal has a unique sound – a barking that is quite comical and fun-loving. But many seals together? They carried on in a wash of sounds that included not just barking but low pitched growls, groans and moans. The chorus of them washed through the cave and echoed off the jagged walls, further distorting the sound into something menacing.

As a boy he’d slowed, intimidated by the creepy noise. This had been one of the rare occasions when he’d actually waited for his parents. He’d walked out with them then, to see the seals. The observation area looked out into a huge cavern. In touch with his younger self, Dean swallowed down the urge to find a way around the barriers and climb out into it. The waters rolled in from the mouth of the cave and as the surge moved toward the back of the cavern, it swirled and retreated, only to repeat the same effort a moment later. The seals were fun to watch, and he stayed longer than he had intended. But, if Dean was honest, it wasn’t the activity of the seals that held him spellbound. It was the environment. The cave was dark and cool. The sunshine streaming in from its mouth lit up the larger portion but didn’t reach the nooks and crannies. It begged to be explored.

As he stood there and enjoyed the feeling of it, Dean’s mind was circling with images from his childhood. Back then he’d explored the shorelines of this area with tenacity – touching everything. He passed no boulder or cliff wall without putting his palm to it; his hands pushed into sand of all textures… wet, dry, crunchy, soft. His boyish voice had rebounded from the cliff walls as he tested the echo, and tide pools had provided hours of entertainment. He had poked many things with sticks before working up the courage to actually touch them.

Now, as he remembered his lonely exploring, he was aghast at how much he’d been left alone in his childhood… how far he’d been allowed to wander… how seldom the adults had really been checking on him. As a grown man he knew the dangers of tides sweeping out, falling from high places and, of course, strangers. He’d not given a thought to any of this as a boy. But seeing the environment now – from the perspective of an adult – he felt quite critical of his parents. They’d not watched him very carefully. In fact, they’d often been so wrapped up each other that he wound up feeling lonely. No wonder he’d ached for a brother.

That summer’s RV trip up the Pacific coast was his last summer as an only child. It would be in December of that year, amid the excitement and chaos of Christmas, that he'd be pulled into his father's lap and given the best news he’d ever heard.

“I have a Christmas surprise for you, Dean,” his father had said quietly, stubble brushing Dean’s tender cheek. “You’re going to have a brother.”

Dean had been elated. But he chuckled even now, remembering how disappointed he’d been the day of Sammy’s arrival. When his parents told him he was getting a brother… he’d expected a brother his own age. A friend by his side. He’d leapt for joy when his father had come to pick him up from Uncle Bobby’s and said, “Hey Dean, you wanna come meet your new brother?”

Imagine his disgust when he’d been pointed toward a small bundle in his mother’s arms. It was tiny, pink and utterly helpless. This was just not how he’d pictured it. But he only had to hold that tender and wide-eyed bundle to enact every fiber of his being as the boy’s guardian.

Once he’d been brought home from the hospital, Sammy had become entertaining fast. And Dean had been quite taken with him. Still was. Even as a man, Dean could be undone by his brother’s puppy-dog eyes. Dean was now closer to forty than thirty; and Sam was coming up on his thirtieth soon. But Sam was still “Sammy” to Dean.

Dean hadn’t had enough of the cave yet. But he was getting hungry, so he turned to leave. On his way back to the Impala, he stopped inside the souvenir shop. He purchased a few postcards, a cheesy t-shirt and a block of fudge. As he checked out, he flirted with the young lady who was working the register, and while he acknowledged internally that he was far too old for her, it gave him great pleasure to watch her face as she considered his advances. He grinned seeing the “yes” click into place on her face when she admitted to herself that she found him attractive and embraced his interest. This was his favorite part of all dating rituals… the part where he could see someone decide that they wanted him. That and the actual orgasm were Dean’s favorite parts of the dating/mating game. He winked at her as he stepped away from the counter and headed off to grab dinner alone.

It was almost dark when he arrived at the restaurant. Pulling into the Bliss Hot Rod Bar and Grill, he couldn’t help but smile. The exterior was colorful, decorated with the actual bodies of antique cars. They were lined up on the roof with headlights facing out towards the street. Their varied paint colors were electric in the neon lights. The interior was decorated with vintage automobile wares… bulbous gas pumps from generations past, antique signs for oil and petrol, there was even a booth cut into a hollowed out car. Dean ambled over to a small table and waited for the waitress, already knowing what he’d order. This place carried all the typical fare of a greasy spoon. He would be having a juicy bacon cheeseburger with fries and a shake. Pie for dessert. Bliss. The place was well named.

After finishing his meal, he moved into the attached bar and ordered a whiskey. He stayed to have several, sitting quietly at the bar and people-watching. His phone vibrated a few times in his jacket pocket, but he ignored it. He wasn’t interested in checking his messages, his email, even his Facebook. He was interested in watching those around him. When he’d finished his third drink and had a pleasant buzz, he paid his tab and headed back to the car.

He’d enjoyed the ambiance of this unique diner and as he left, Dean felt a pang of loneliness. Part of the novelty and fun of a place like this one was having someone along to enjoy it with. The same could probably have been said for all his previous stops as well. Although he could’ve brought Lisa with him on this trip… or even Sammy… he had recoiled at the thought of having any company. Unsure of why, Dean slid into the driver’s seat, contemplating how strange it was to nurture a desire for company while simultaneously choosing to be alone.

His plan had been to re-create the RV trip his parents had taken him on when he was a child, but he had no idea why the idea was appealing to him. He’d felt lonely as a child when he took this trip with his parents, and he felt lonely as he repeated the trip now. Perhaps there was some symmetry in that.

Not wanting to think too hard and ruin his buzz, he forced his thoughts to other things. He turned the key and felt Baby rumble to life under him. It was quite satisfying. He exited the lot and headed for the Motel 6. Entering his room, Dean dropped his things and headed straight for the minibar. Shoes were then kicked off, pants and shirt shed. With pillows stacked up comfortably behind him, he settled in to drink his way through the minibar and watch late night television. Three little bottles later, he had the urge to jerk off. But the laptop containing his enviable porn collection was clear across the room. Feeling too tired to bother, he simply rolled over and fell asleep.

When he woke in the morning, it was to the shrill sound of his least favorite ringtone. The one he’d given his agent, Balthazar. He fumbled around, half hanging out of bed and balanced precariously over the edge, digging through the pile of clothing on the floor to find his jeans, retrieve and silence the damn thing.

Immediately it rang again as Dean held it in his hand. He gritted his teeth and answered.

“Zar, why the fuck are you calling me at this ungodly hour when I’m on vacation?”

“It’s nearly noon, my pet,” Balthazar cooed in his condescending British accent.

“Not on the west coast it’s not. And I ain't yer pet.”

“So cheery this morning! The vacation is doing you good then?”

“It was. Until you woke me up. Now, what do you want?” Dean barked.

“Merely to tell you that the cover art for ‘Echelons’ is finished. I’ve emailed you the mock-ups.”

“If you’re calling me just to tell me that you’ve emailed me, then you’ve sunk to a new low,” Dean retorted.

“Well, as long as I have you on the line, I thought I’d see if you’d had any brilliant thoughts on your next project.”

Dean took a deep breath and bit back the worst of what he wanted to say. Balthazar was just doing his job. He pressed his thumb and middle finger to the bridge of his nose in a futile effort to suppress the headache that this man would soon inflict on him.

“Look Zar, I know you have a stake in my work. But really, I need some time off between books. Now, I have never let you down on a deadline. I have never had writer's block. I churn out book after book for you. I don’t need you to keep me motivated.”

“Then, darling, tell me what you need,” he said with false sincerity.

“I need some time off. Time to myself. Time to have some fun. Time to not fuckin’ think about what I’m going to write next or how the publishing process is moving along on what I’ve just finished writing. I need a vacation, goddammit!”

“You’re on vacation now, love.”

“No. I’m talking to my agent. This is working.”

Dean knew how this was going to go. Zar would give him a few days… maybe even a week or two. But he would call again. And again. Dean needed to think of a way to set some boundaries that Zar would understand. So he made a quick decision. He’d make Zar his vacation ally. Give the man an incentive… a good one.

“Zar, listen. I’ve never been more than a few months between books. The holidays are comin’ up, and I would’ve taken time off for that, even if I was writing. In my opinion, I have a block of time coming my way, and I don’t want to be pestered while I enjoy it. So I’m gonna offer you a deal.”

Zar didn’t speak. That was a good sign. The man was actually listening.

“I’m taking vacation for the rest of October and the first two weeks of November. Then, it will be the holiday season. I need a few weeks in January for brainstorming and then I’ll be ready to start putting something concrete together in early February. So how bout this…” Dean paused for effect, “If you just leave me the fuck alone through then… I will come to your office, personally, on Valentines and we’ll have a proper meeting where you can get a look at my next project.”

“So you want me to keep my mouth shut and leave you completely alone for almost four months? What’s in it for me kitten?” he flirted.

“The holy grail, my literary friend, the holy fuckin’ grail…”

“Which is?” prodded Zar impatiently.

“A kiss. From me. A genuine kiss from Dean Winchester.”

“A kiss,” Zar said flatly.

“Don’t play coy,” Dean said firmly, “We both know you’ve dreamt about my junk in your hands for as long as you’ve known me. I’m no fool, Zar. I know the mouth of a straight man is a coveted prize. I will come to your office on Valentines and give you a kiss. I don’t even care who sees. You can invite your friends in to watch… record it for the internet. I don’t care. I will give you a kiss if you can just give me some time.”

“Deal!” Zar shouted with a flourish.

Dean smiled as the line clicked dead in his hand. He gave himself a pat on the back and thought, “Well played, Winchester.”

He sighed as he fumbled towards the shower, thinking of what he’d like to do today. When he’d visited here with his parents, they’d traveled in an RV that had been borrowed from a friend of the family. They’d stayed at an RV camp near the beach and after their stop to view the Sea Lions, they’d settled in for the night. Dad had made a bonfire, and they’d all sat around it roasting hot dogs and marshmallows. It was a warm memory for Dean. It had been just the three of them for a while, and dad had told him and his mother ghost stories as they watched the flames dance between them. It had been chilly that night and when he’d grown cold, he’d crawled up in his mother’s lap. She’d opened up her coat and wrapped him into it.

But too soon, he’d lost his position as the center of their world. Some folks from a neighboring RV had stopped by to visit and soon the group of adults were passing around beers, talking and laughing as they shared the fire. Dean tried to stay quiet, hoping for the best. But it was for nothing. They sent him to bed.

Now, in the shitty bathroom of the Motel 6, he waited for the water in the shower to get warm enough and remembered with surprising accuracy the empty feeling he’d had in his gut as he’d crawled into his fold out bed in the camper, alone. He could hear the muffled voices and laughter outside through the walls of the RV. He couldn’t really make out what they were saying, only the murmur of their voices, punctuated often with fits of laughter.

As he showered, Dean shook the memory off completely by fisting his cock and stroking himself quickly to a satisfying end. Afterwards, he decided to swing by the RV park from his memory as he headed out of town. He wanted to see the adjoining beach again… just to see if the waves were really as tall as he’d remembered them. As he put his bag together and headed to the car, his Impala, his Baby, he was of two minds about his trip so far. On the one hand, he loved not having to be responsible for anyone else. He could sleep when tired, eat when hungry, go where he pleased. But yet, he was lonely and wishing for company.

If he’d had company, he would have been forced to stay in a nicer hotel. Neither Lisa nor Sammy or anyone else he knew would’ve let him get away with staying at a Motel 6. But, if he had brought Lisa with him on this trip, he would’ve gotten laid last night instead of falling asleep alone. But he smirked to himself as he acknowledged that even if Lisa was with him, he still would’ve jerked off in the shower this morning.

If he’d brought Sammy on this trip he would’ve had a lot more fun at the bar last night. But he still would’ve jerked off in the shower this morning. It was a ritual he enjoyed. The habit had been formed during puberty and even now, he rarely missed a day.

After leaving the hotel, Dean stopped for breakfast at a little greasy spoon just off the highway. In the weak sun of a fall morning, he left with a full stomach and soon found himself driving slowly through the RV camp of his memory. It wasn’t quite the stir of nostalgia he had expected it to be. Actually, it produced no emotion in him at all. He never even stopped the car.

Since the weather was mild he kept the windows down and the radio off as he drove, enjoying the sound of Baby’s heavy engine and the smell of salty sea air. When he arrived at the beach, it was just as he remembered. The waves were impressive. They rolled in with lumbering power and broke heavily on the beach. Foam churned over sand, and driftwood tumbled helplessly at the whim of the water.

Dean was dressed warmly in jeans, boots and layers of cotton and flannel. Still, he was glad to have his jacket on. It had been his dad's. It was still a little big for him, but he didn’t care. His father had been gone a long time, but the jacket still smelled of him after all these years. Dean would never part with it.

He walked along the beach, lost in his thoughts. The relentless pounding of the waves on the beach was sweet music for his ears. It was only punctuated by the screech and cry of water birds as they circled near shore, scavenging for food. Since it was the off season, he was the only one on this beach. It suited his mood. He’d been feeling lonely and melancholy for weeks before this trip, so it wasn’t just the memories that were dragging him down.

Part of it was likely his most recent book being finished. That was always a time of adjustment. The excitement of bringing a book to its culmination was somewhat of a high. Then when the end had been written and the pages shipped off, there was usually a period of true restfulness. He’d sleep well for a few days – satisfied with a job well done.

But then soon, a dull ache would start growing in him as he came to terms with the fact that all his positive feelings about life were being drawn from fictional characters. Gradually he’d accept the emptiness of his life and find some ways to enjoy himself despite his admittedly self-imposed isolation.

He’d hit a few bars; sometimes alone, sometimes with Sammy or even with friends. He’d get laid a few times – choosing the lady of the evening with little discrimination. He’d nurse a few hangovers. Then, with some steam blown off, he’d go to eat in a few nice places with whomever he was seeing at the time (most recently, Lisa) followed by some proper sex of a more personal variety. There was definitely a rhythm to his life as a writer and for Dean it had a very “lather-rinse-repeat” kind of feel to it.

Sooner than later, a new story would start to shape in his mind. He’d let it grow quietly, ignoring it for the most part. If he tried to think logically about an idea too soon, it would grow elusive and wither under his scrutiny. But if he just gave it time to develop without his conscious mind, it would get strong. It would stand up to his questions, and he’d be able to logically fill in holes and tie loose ends… bring the plot to culmination and close.

That had become his writing process over the years. And as he cycled through books, he cycled through seasons and holidays and lovers and years. Time was going by as he wrote, drank and fucked. But nothing in “real life” had surprised or excited him a very long time. In fact, this trip was the first thing he’d done to break routine for many years.

The idea for the trip had come to him after a particularly vivid dream, and ever since he’d incepted the idea, it had exerted a strange pull on him. There was no logic to it… it was just something he felt compelled to do. Perhaps he needed to get back in touch with his childhood or reconnect to his parents. Or maybe, he was trying to get a sense for who he’d been in his formative years. It was just so strange; strange to be an adult and make conscious decisions but not understand his own motivations.

As a chill ran up his back, he found himself pulled from his inner musings and returning to the present. A cold front was blowing in over the surf, and it was frigid. Dean’s eyes lifted to the south, and he saw intimidating thunderheads pressing toward shore and chasing away the sun. He turned back north, knowing that cold rain was coming. It was time to head back to Baby. He smiled at the thought of driving in the rain for a while.

With the pressure changing and a storm brewing at his back, Dean increased his pace. He wanted to climb into Baby dry. Otherwise the magic of driving in the rain would be gone, and he’d just be miserable. He quickened his pace again as he thought of water puddling on Baby’s pristine seats and heavy wet clothes weighing him down. The first bolt of lightning reminded him of how out-in-the-open he really was, and the thunder seemed to push him even faster.

Even running, he didn’t make it. As he climbed back up the footpath from the beach to parking, he felt the first spatter of rain on his forehead. Three solid plops and then – boom. Torrential downpour. The sky was deep and dark by the time he thrust his key in the lock to climb in the car. He put on the headlights, cranked the heat to high and divested himself of his jacket and outer shirt. The undershirt was still pretty dry, but his pants were soaked. He was chilled, and knew that he was only going to get colder despite running the heat at full blast.  

Dean’s top priority now was a hot shower, dry clothes and a nice long nap. He pulled out heading north on the highway, which was devoid of civilization. This area was largely deserted despite its majestic beauty. The side of the road wasn’t cluttered with signs. It was quiet. Perfect. Just what he’d needed in this vacation. Except now, the one damn time he wanted to see gaudy signs advertising rooms with free HBO and breakfast, there’s nothing to peer at from behind his windshield wipers but dark, wet highway cutting between tall, green trees.

The storm had blacked out the sun and even with the headlights on he wasn’t seeing more than two or three yellow dashes ahead of his hood. Dean slowed to 45, suddenly seized by the thought that if a deer or some other large animal were to come running out from between these trees – he’d never see it in time to avoid hitting it. He loved Baby way too much to risk anything happening to her. She’d been his father’s, after all, and Dean had promised to treat her like a lady. With a few notable exceptions, he always had. 

He squinted as his eyes caught sight of a yellow reflector sign hovering over the road. It cautioned for bicycles in the tunnel and set a speed limit of 30. Dean let off the gas again and coasted in. Suddenly, there was no rain pounding the roof, only the vacuum of a darkened tunnel with no light at that end of it. He chuckled at the metaphor and leaned back to relax and enjoy the novelty.

As soon as he exited, the barrage of wind and rain returned. He didn’t even accelerate all the way back up to 45. Visibility was too low. He noticed that there was a guardrail on either side of him and realized that he’d emerged from a tunnel out onto a bridge. It was different than the kind of bridges he was used to crossing in Kansas – less utilitarian. It was patterned with slats in the shape of starbursts or flowers… something decorative. It was as if this area had been designed to be photographed.

The bridge was a long one. The wind buffeted the car, too, so he assumed he must be high up. Perhaps this wasn’t a bridge over water, but over a gorge.  Dark and raining as it was, he couldn’t see past the edges of the bridge to know what he was traveling over.  When he reached the end of the bridge, the trees were back. But at least he finally found what his eyes had been aching for. A turnoff that wasn’t marked “private drive.”

He followed the small winding road and soon found himself pulling up at the Heceta Head Lighthouse Bed and Breakfast. Lightning snapped and lit up the landscape in sharp clarity. The encroaching cliffs and nearby lighthouse visible only for the beat of a heart and then it was dark again. He grabbed his bag from the back and got out, making a run for the front door.

The place was nothing more than a very large and well-kept white house. The design of its windows and woodwork labeled it as early 1900s built in a modest Queen Anne style. Its front porch spanned the full width of the structure. The trim work on the house and the white picket fence probably gave this place a “Mayberry” vibe when the sun was shining. But cut against black storm clouds and pelting rain… it was downright creepy. Dean’s imagination lit with images of disturbing antique dolls and lace curtains that billowed despite a lack of breeze.

As he pushed the door open, however, he found none of those. The warmth of a roaring fire and soft lamplight greeted him as he shook off the rain and looked for the desk. Stepping up, he asked if they had any rooms. The woman smiled and said, “Normally, no. We stay booked several months out. But you’re in luck. We’ve had a last-minute cancellation, and the Lightkeeper’s room is available.”

“I’ll take it,” he said as he dug out his wallet and handed her his card.

“It’s available for four nights. How long do you plan to stay with us?” she asked kindly.

“Just for tonight,” he replied with a smile, accepting his card back from her.

She pushed the receipt across the counter to him, “Your total is $309.23, and we’ll keep your card on file for incidentals. Sign here, please.”

He cringed as he signed. He didn’t need to worry about money, but he wasn’t frivolous either. A couple hundred bucks for one night's lodging was only appropriate when embarking on the destination of a lifetime. He was just here hiding from the rain.

His inner self gave a shrug and he accepted the old-fashioned key from her. He shadowed her up the creaky staircase. It was beautiful – a spiral, but square. Every six or eight steps, there was a platform and a hard left turn before there was another set of stairs to climb.

The room, it turned out, didn’t even have a bathroom in it. His host had a very pleasant way of making this sound like a good thing… a pleasant bonus that he’d been given a white terrycloth bathrobe for crossing the hall to his own private bath. Semantics. If he wanted to piss in the middle of the night – he had to leave his room and stumble across a public hallway to do it.

After she left him in his accommodations, he had time to look around. He could hear the rain beating on the roof, and the swelling storm had brought lightning with it. It flashed outside his windows repeatedly. He could see why this was called the Lightkeeper’s Room. His double windows faced toward the cliffs where the lighthouse was perched. Its bright light swung around and lit up his room with a rhythmic pulse.

He glanced around as he stripped out of his wet clothes. The room was a chick’s wet dream. If Lisa were here… she would have been elated. This place looked like a Norman Rockwell painting. She would be buzzing around the room if she were here… yacking about the handcrafted furniture and timeless quilt. But she would’ve cursed the very rain that brought them here when she saw it was impeding a walk to the lighthouse that was framed in the window.

He had to admit… he was glad she wasn’t here. Dean had fucked his way through several token girlfriends over the last few years. He’d found it beneficial to have one during the holidays. It was also nice to have an automatic “plus one” for any event he’d needed to attend. Things like weddings, dinners with friends and the like were all easier with a little social lubricant. So, yes, Dean maintained a girlfriend in the same way he maintained his car, his home and his business contacts. But he hadn’t really felt much for any of them.

Usually, he let the girls go somewhere around the twelve to eighteen month mark. That seemed to be the time frame when they’d really start to expect something from him. Expectations equal death to a relationship with Dean. But ultimately, this was a kindness to them. He usually respected the girls he kept and didn’t want these women to invest too much time in him only to find out that he wouldn’t commit.

As he donned the terrycloth robe and crossed the hall, he pondered why it was that he was glad he’d left Lisa behind, even here, where she would’ve been delightful company. Even the certainty that he would’ve been very properly laid in that creaky antique bed still didn’t entice him to wish she were here. Honestly, Dean wished he knew why he felt the way he did. But he didn’t. And right now, he didn’t want to think too hard about it either. He wanted to relax.

When he pushed open the door to the bathroom he took a moment to appreciate the place. If it were his home instead of a hotel he would’ve loved the clawfoot bathtub, which was positioned in front of a wide, curtained window. Lightning stuck as he leaned in and turned on the hot water, filling the tub and swirling steam into the cool bathroom. He glanced around at the offerings. There were several clusters of daintily packaged soaps, oils and bath salts. There were candles, too.

“When in Rome,” Dean muttered to himself. He got up and pulled open the artfully displayed book of matches and struck them, one at a time, to light candles around the room while the tub was filling. Adding some floral scented bubble bath, he then he extinguished the overhead lights and pulled back the curtains from the window. On the other side of the paned glass, the storm rolled on and the electricity of it filled him as he stood naked before its grandeur.

Settling into the tub and propping a towel behind his head, he found his muscles unclenching in the water, which was still a bit too hot. As he began to relax, Dean found himself feeling content. The room was dark but for the soft glow of candles and the occasional jolt of lightning that lit it up the bathroom like daylight for the blink of an eye. He lingered, his mind drifting lazily until the water had cooled too much to offer comfort. Then, as he pulled the drain plug and stood, he thought belatedly about getting off. Oh well. “Later,” he promised himself.


	2. Shit Creek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to MoniJune for her editing and assistance with this story!

The bath had been relaxing, and when Dean returned to his room the clock on the wall read 6:15. He toweled his hair and dressed warmly as the rhythmic pulse from the lighthouse pitched his room from near darkness to bright light and then back again. Taking advantage of the antique desk in his room, Dean settled in and wrote out the postcards he’d purchased. Then he grabbed a book from his duffel and stretched out on the bed, stacking up pillows behind his head and switching on the Victorian lamp on his nightstand.

He’d brought several books with him that were on his “must read” list, and the idea of lounging in bed to read while a storm raged outside was tempting. He started his first, enjoying his immersion into a world that he didn’t have to create. The constant pulsing of light from the lighthouse was a novelty, and he found himself enjoying it rather than being annoyed with it. The book he had chosen was engrossing so far. But, by the third chapter, he was hungry. It didn’t matter how good the book was. His desire to eat wouldn’t be ignored.

Dean settled the book onto his bedside table, split open to mark his place. Then he put on shoes, grabbed his wallet and keys, and headed down to the front desk.

When greeted by the gracious woman at the counter, he asked her to mail his postcards and then said, “I wanna get some dinner. Something low key. Got any suggestions?”

“Well, there’s a half dozen decent places in Florence, have you been there yet?”

“Yep,” said Dean, “Just came from that way. What’s north of here?”

“Well, there’s a few places to the north, fifteen miles or so.” He could tell she was about to start into a spiel detailing her recommendations so he cut off with a polite nod and smile.

“How bout a bar… where can I grab a drink around here?”

“Well,” she said with a graceful smile, “you can head back a dozen miles to Florence, or you can go north a dozen or so miles to Yachats. Either way, there are some nice choices. I’m afraid there isn’t much that’s closer.”

“Just head north on the scenic byway?”

“Yes.”

“Thanks,” Dean said as he thumped the counter.

“Drive safely,” she said as she nodded towards the door.

The worst of the storm seemed to have passed over now, but the sky was still dark and gloomy and it was raining lightly. Dean rolled his eyes as he got wet again, having only been dry for an hour or two. Baby rumbled to life under his hands and he guided her slowly up the winding road to get back on the 101, scenic byway.

As he traveled he could see now that there were plenty of signs in the area. They were simply not reflective or lit. He could see their outlines in the purplish twilight. Most of this area along the coast was national park lands. That’s part of what made it so beautiful, it had been left alone. There wasn’t a McDonald's on every corner, sprawling gas stations or billboards every hundred yards trying to attract the eye of consumers. It was peaceful here. Dean found that he liked it. Although it meant an inconvenient drive just to grab dinner and a drink.

When he crossed the river and found himself in Yachats, he began watching for a place to eat and drink. He decided on Yachats Underground Pub and Grub. The place looked like a dive from the outside, and it suited his mood.

When he walked in, he was stunned to be enveloped in cheerful reggae music. A live band was playing to a boisterous crowd. He grinned at the sheer audacity of the place, its outside not matching its inside at all. The band with their steel drums and island sounds couldn’t have been more out of place here. Or more welcome.

Everywhere he looked people were smiling and happy. Funny… he’d been looking for a rough place full of tired, smelly fishermen where he could drink without calling attention to himself. But as he cut towards the bar, he couldn’t hold down a grin. The irony was too much and the swirling colorful lights lifted his spirits as he ordered a drink and began to sip on it. He didn’t know the tune playing, but when a gorgeous blonde slid up next to him and invited him to dance, he couldn’t say no.

He downed his whiskey and chuckled as she led him out onto the floor. Her tank top was tight and short enough to leave a tantalizing sliver of her skin showing beneath it. That slice of skin was calling for his thumb. He didn’t wait. He slid a hand to her hip as she danced her way onto the floor and let his thumb slide along the top of her jeans. She turned into him then, amongst the bodies already dancing, and put her hands above her head. Permission. He had permission to run his hands over her already – and he’d just walked in the door. He smiled at how easy it was sometimes, to be Dean Winchester.

Between songs, he guided her to the bar and they did a few shots before she dragged him back out on the floor. Again, he slid his hands to her hips, and he loved how they felt beneath his hands. Their dancing had grown quite dirty, and he found himself smiling at her easy to read signs. When she begged him to do a body shot with her and her friends, he did. And as he was running his tongue up her neck, he told her that he wanted to get out of here and smiled when he heard her whispering agreement.

When they stepped out of the bar it had stopped raining completely, but the parking lot was still shiny and wet. He pulled her towards his Baby and opened the door to his back seat for her. Thinking only of getting laid, he paid no attention to how many others were in the parking lot or whether he was being observed. When she crawled in, he grabbed her by the ankles and pulled her roughly towards him. She giggled as he did. Then he reached into the car and guided her into turning over. With her on all fours, he easily reached around her waist to undo her pants, dragging them roughly down her thighs. Her little thong hung-up halfway down, so he slid two fingers under the string to tug it out of his way.

Her knees were on the edge of the backseat and her calves were hanging out the door. He pushed between them and felt her accommodate him, pushing her ass back towards the sound of his clinking belt buckle. He chuckled at her eagerness as he unzipped himself and said, “Yeah, sweetheart, I know.” All he could see of her was her ass cheeks lit in the misty moonlight, and that was exactly the way he liked it. When he pulled out his cock, it was half hard already. With a few strokes, he was ready and made short work of pulling out a condom and rolling it on. Then he pushed forward and watched his dick disappear into her inch by inch. She arched her back and thrust her rear higher, seeking more from him. He tipped his head back and let his eyes slip shut as he gave it to her.

“Yes,” he heard her say. “Oh baby.” She didn’t even remember his name.

Good. He didn’t remember hers either. But he rolled his hips forward and back, fucking smoothly and with a smile. She was warm on his cock and quick to pick up the pace with him. When he opened his eyes and looked around, the lot was mostly empty. There were a few people coming and going from the bar. Some looked their way but Dean gave them little thought, other than the swelling of pride that came with knowing he was likely being observed as he fucked.

He enjoyed the cool night breeze on his face, which was flushed from drinking and dancing. His bare ass faced the street, jeans bunched up around his thighs. He enjoyed fucking into a warm body, and he loved the way his Baby rocked under their movements as the slapping of skin on skin grew louder. Knowing he was close he pulled her cheeks apart and looked down, watching the tight little rosebud of her ass while his slippery, wet dick moved in and out of her just below it. This was his favorite position to fuck in. He loved seeing ass cheeks while his dick pounded in. And he loved the way it felt to grab her hips tightly and hold firm while he released.

Tits were nice to look at as part of the whole package… the overall shape of a woman. But during sex he didn’t really care for watching them flop around. Given the chance, he almost always chose to turn a girl over when he fucked her. Most didn’t seem to mind.

Finished with her now, he spared a glance down between them in the dark, pulling off the condom and tossing it aside. With his balls now empty, the sight of her wet hole did nothing for him. He began to pull her tiny undies and jeans back up for her. Then he extracted her from his car and closed the door.

Smoothly, he pressed her against Baby and zipped her up. Her eyes were heavily lidded, both drunk and satisfied. He’d given her a good ride, and it had felt good to get his rocks off. Wanting to give her something nice to remember him by, he pulled her in for a slow kiss. Then he was able to walk her back into the bar and leave her amongst her friends. He stayed for a few minutes, not wanting to be too rude (or too obvious) and then he left.

As he put the key in the ignition, he realized he’d never eaten and chuckled. “Sure as hell not goin’ back in there,” he laughed aloud. It went against all logic to go back in and jeopardize the smooth getaway he’d executed. So he pulled back out onto the main drag and found a gas station open. He bought a shitty slice of pizza and a six pack.

As he rolled back out onto the highway, he thought briefly of Lisa and felt the sting of guilt. He’d cheated on her. Again. And honestly, she deserved better. She was one of the good ones. He’d have to let her go soon. After Christmas – he told himself.

The drive back was pleasant enough. He had a nice easy buzz going and the road was empty, peaceful. He listened to the steady engine and the sound of his tires on asphalt as he headed south nursing a cold beer, savoring the bitter flavor as he enjoyed the drive. He still had five left when he got back to the bed and breakfast, and he finished a few more as he resumed reading in bed.

In the morning, Dean awoke to a phone call just before noon. It wasn’t his mobile, but the antique phone on the bedside table.

Still bleary-eyed and cranky, he answered with a gruff, “Hello?”

“Good morning Mr. Winchester. This is Carol downstairs. We didn’t see you at breakfast this morning. Are you still planning to check out today?”

Dean paused, trying to wake up enough to answer the woman’s question. “No,” he told her, not wanting to get out of bed. “No. I’m going to stay another day, if that’s alright.”

“Yes, of course Mr. Winchester. If you’d like I can bring you up some breakfast?”

“Sure, thank you.”

It was only a few minutes later that he heard a knock at his door and found the smiling face from last night handing him a covered tray.

“These are just some leftovers,” she said offhandedly, “But I’d encourage you to join us for breakfast in the morning. It’s quite an affair. We serve seven courses, and you’ll never have the same breakfast twice!” She was so proud that he had to assume she was either the owner or the chef.

He thanked her again and closed the door, wondering briefly what it was about his appearance that made her think he’d be the type of man to enjoy a seven-course breakfast.

It smelled good though, so he sat down on the bed with his tray. Pulling the top off, he had to chuckle. If he scraped everything together into a pile… it might have been four or five bites. It was beautiful and elegant. Worthy of a picture. He didn’t want it. He wanted a pile of eggs with strips of bacon and some hash browns. Strong coffee.

Not one to waste anything, he dug in. Every bite was heaven. But it only left him hungry for more. He flopped back down on the bed, planning to get some more sleep. But for some reason, he felt an excitement for the day. It reminded him of his childhood… always waking anticipatory… eager for what the day would bring. He looked out the window at the view. It was spectacular. He decided to take a picture. As he captured the incredible view from his window, he felt a strong desire to walk down the path to the lighthouse. The weather was beautiful, and he hoped it would hold.

As he moved about the hotel and grounds, he noticed it was mostly a bed and breakfast type crowd here. The lighthouse was definitely worth taking a look at, and he was glad that he’d wound up staying here. An iron staircase wound up the center of it and when he’d climbed to the top, he was able to look directly up into the actual bulb. The cut class that surrounded the light source was meant to distribute the light and effectively magnify it outward. From inside it was stunning, like looking out from inside of a diamond.

Lisa would’ve loved this, he thought. He’d had that though several times on this trip. But just as he’d started to berate himself for choosing not to bring her, his honest side reminded him of the dozens of things that Lisa would’ve hated about this trip. Like being on a beach when it’s not bikini weather, having to drive through a storm, the smelly sea lion caves… yeah lots for Lisa to hate on this trip. And, none of the things he’d enjoyed so far would’ve been any fun with her nagging voice in his ear the entire time.

With Lisa, women in general, there just seemed to be more negatives than positives. Lisa is one of the good ones... pretty, smart, devoted. But even still, he often felt like a salmon swimming upstream when it came to the daily challenges of this relationship. He'd never felt relaxed around women. He was good with them, yes. He knew how to get them to swoon for him, shimmy out of their panties. But when it came to the day-to-day interactions with women, he often felt tired. The efforts of navigating the many emotional aspects of women, in general, just made him feel like a constant failure. It was impossible to feel genuine companionship with any of them because he was constantly working so hard to say and do the right things. Should a relationship really feel like a part time job?.

Perhaps he just wasn’t one who was meant to settle down. The general notion was wonderful… Dean loved the idea of having one person to be his best friend for life – his partner through thick and thin. But the reality of that situation was nothing like the fairy tale.

Dean had lived with someone once. Her name was Cassie. He’d had strong feelings for her, thought that maybe he loved her, and their sex had been amazing. He’d invited her into his life and told her his secrets. It had been good for a while. But a few months down the road? All it had come to was her razors in the shower and her voice constantly at his ear. His toilet seat always being down. (Who the fuck decided that the universal toilet seat position was down anyway? In Dean’s world the correct toilet seat position was up. If a lady used his toilet then she should put the seat back up when she was done.)

His reality with Cassie had been an exercise in frustration. He was expected to call her if he were going to be late, help with dishes, watch the calendar for her events as well as his, tolerate her hair in his brushes and combs and her clutter everywhere. He was constantly apologizing for things he didn't feel he should have to apologize for. In the end, he hadn't felt able to just relax and be himself.

It didn't help that his smoking hot sex bomb had turned into a prude as soon as they started shacking-up. And that her mother was over EVERY damn Sunday, and that her friends constantly annoyed him. Needless to say, that didn’t last long. And Dean had learned a valuable lesson about love. It does not conquer all.

As he thumped down the circular staircase of the lighthouse, he realized he’d begun wearing a scowl. It didn’t fit the mood he’d been enjoying today, which had been fine until he’d begun thinking about women. Now, as he stepped out into the fresh air and sunlight, he easily wiped them all from his mind. This day was gorgeous, and he was going to enjoy it.

More than anything, he wanted to explore the shoreline. There was a path down to the beach, but there were too many people on it. Dean looked around. Here, at the lighthouse, was a smattering of tourists following the trail. To the south was the gorge that churned water to the sea and stretched across it was the beautiful bridge he’d driven across. To the north was unexplored wilderness; sea cliffs decorated with nothing but rocks and trees. It called to the little boy inside him. He wanted to explore. And this time, there was no barrier. Just the lack of a defined trail. Dean smiled as he stepped off the path and began walking along the cliff face heading north.

As he wandered, he followed along the cliff’s edge. Whenever he stopped for a moment to enjoy the view, the cliff face beneath him was steep, the drop off sharp. There was no way to get down to the beach below. He looked out over the water and smiled, breathing deep. Refreshed. He walked north for over an hour. The terrain was rough. The grasses were tall and tangled with shrubs and small trees. The ground beneath was rocky and uneven. It was slow progress. But still, something inside him urged him forward.

When he finally decided to take a break, he plunked down on a large, flat rock. He meant to relax there for a bit. But instead, he found his eyes sweeping, tracing. The cliff face was broken here, large and small rocks piled in a steep slant towards the sea. The longer he looked, the more interested he became. His eyes studied intently, moving slowly. Yes. He could see it. There was a way down.

Once the thought had occurred to him, he couldn’t let it go. He wanted to climb down to the beach. It would be a lot of work. But when he got to the bottom, he’d be on a small and isolated stretch of beach that he doubted had seen many humans – because this was the only way to get to it without a boat.

Dean stood from his resting place and began tentatively descending. It wasn’t easy. In fact, it was much harder than he’d thought it would be. He had to stop every fifteen feet or so and look around to try and find the way that he’d seen so easily from above. He was sweating in no time despite the cool breeze. By the time he was emerging onto the sandy beach, the late afternoon sun was beginning to sink. He didn’t even want to think about climbing back up that slope yet. He was exhausted.

Instead, he marveled at what he’d found. This little crescent beach was stunning. The sand was perfect and the waves rolled in deep and blue. All around him was cliff face on every side. His sense of aloneness was complete. No one was going to just glance over at him in passing. No one was here and no one was coming here.

That was the moment that his stomach rumbled, and he chuckled at the absurdity of what he’d done. This area of the country was full of hikers. Would any be so foolish as to hike like this without equipment? Fuck no. They’d have at least a backpack with some food, some water and a first aid kit. Dean had to laugh at his stupidity. But he also couldn’t help but appreciate his own tenacity. He took off his boots and stepped out a few feet onto the wet sand where waves were washing in. He let the freezing water invigorate him, and he took a deep breath and smiled.

This was vacation. No phone. No people. Just himself and nature. It was clean. It was pure. It was… getting dark. Rubbing his hand on the back of his neck, he deliberated between putting on his boots and starting to climb with the small amount of light he had left, or staying here with his attention on the horizon and watching the sun set fully.

He looked back at the steep climb he’d have to undertake to get back up top. He wasn’t even sure it could be done in the dark, and the climb would take far longer than the daylight he had left. What if he got stuck halfway up? Found himself in a position where he couldn’t climb higher or back down? Perhaps he should just stay here for tonight? He really wasn’t sure. Now, isolated in this rugged environment, Dean wondered why he’d wanted to come down here so badly. Why he’d felt compelled to hike so far from his hotel. Again, he wondered how he could possibly be making decisions but not understand his own motivations. A sinking feeling came over him as he realized how cold it would really be on this exposed beach tonight; and how dangerous the climbing after dark would be. Just when he started to realize how fucked he really was – that’s when he saw a flicker of light down the beach.

In the waning light, he settled on a rock and brushed the sand from his feet before putting his socks and shoes back on. The sun was completely gone now, and the last of the light was fading over the water. In a few minutes time, this beach would be pitch black except for the light of the moon. He shuddered.

Then, he saw it again. A flicker of orange light. He slid off the rock and began walking toward it, wondering if it were a trick of the light. He’d come twenty yards or so when he saw it again. This time, it was so dark that there could be no mistaking what he’d seen.

He walked faster now, boots sinking into the sand as he walked away from the packed sand that had been smoothed by waves and onto the soft sand and weeds that lived near the bottom of the cliff face. He lost sight of his destination once, but when he came around a jutting rock he found it again.

There, near the base of a steep cliff on the southern end of his lonely crescent beach, was a flicker of firelight. Dean kept walking towards it, more curious than hopeful. As he approached he could see that there was a small fissure in the cliff that widened at the base where it created a small triangle of an opening. Perhaps it was ten or twelve feet tall and five feet wide? From within was the origin of the firelight. Dean stepped forward slowly, carefully, not knowing what he may find.

As he moved into the slit he realized he was coming through the entrance of a cave. Stepping into it immediately relieved the buffet of wind that had been on him all afternoon. His ears rang with the quiet of its absence. Looking around, he found himself in a large cavern. The light that had caught his attention was from a roaring driftwood fire. It glowed orange with blue and green dancing at the center. Dean looked over the flames and caught the eye of the keeper of this fire.

It was a vagrant. Dean postured himself carefully, not knowing if the man was dangerous. The man was medium height and build, dark hair, blue eyes. He was dressed in a wrinkled suit and dirty tan trench coat. He stood up from the log he was resting on as Dean slowly approached.

“Hey,” said Dean by way of a greeting, “bet you’re not used to drop-in company, are ya?”

The man didn’t laugh at Dean’s joke. His face read shock and maybe fear. Dean didn’t feel a dangerous vibe from the man, and he wanted to get closer to the fire. So he gestured towards the fire and said, “May I?”

“Of course,” said the man as he settled back onto his log, “I’m glad for some company.”

“I’m Dean,” he said softly, holding his hand out in the most non-threatening way he could.

“Nice to meet you, Dean,” said the stranger. But he offered no name to Dean nor did he accept Dean’s silent offer to shake hands. They sat on the log a few feet apart for quite a while saying nothing. Dean snuck a few glances at the man, and each time, he found the man looking back at him unapologetically. Dean had never been stared at like this before. It was a bit off-putting, but he found it didn’t bother him like it should.

He didn’t sense any maleficence from the bum, only a sense of wonder and curiosity. Dean had to admit, if he’d found this cave – he’d be stunned to see someone else come in behind him. This place was about as “off the map” and “unreachable” as you could get in America.

Dean decided to break their comfortable silence and try again to speak, “Bet you're wonderin’ what brings me here, huh?”

The man responded, “No, I’m glad you’ve come.”

Dean took in the man’s haggard appearance and couldn’t help feeling there was something uncanny about him. Something vaguely familiar. “How long have you been here?” he asked him.

“A very long time,” he said wistfully.

“You stay here alone?” Dean prodded.

“Yes, I’ve been alone for a long time. I had a friend once, but he hasn’t been back for many years.”

“Years?” Dean asked incredulously, “You’ve been here for years?”

“Decades, rather, but yes,” he answered.

Before Dean could think of another question, the man asked him one. He leaned a bit closer and set the full force of his ice-blue eyes on Dean and asked, “Where do you come from, Dean? Where were you… before you were here?”

“I’m from Kansas,” he said without blinking, “I live in Lawrence, Kansas. Grew up there. What about you?”

“I don’t recall anything before here,” he answered softly, glancing down at his feet as he spoke.

Dean’s mind lit up with possibilities. Was this guy for real? An amnesiac homeless man living in a cave on the beach? Dean’s imagination sprang to life as he quietly watched the rumpled man. His mind churned out at least two scenarios a minute for ten minutes before he finally asked the next question.

“What brought you here?”

“A presence. A friend.”

Dean smiled and nodded, as if that answer made any kind of sense. If taken literally, then this homeless man was led here by a friend or someone he presumed to be a friend and then likely left here by that same friend. But Dean had the feeling that none of this man’s responses should be taken literally. This man had a feeling of otherworldliness about him. His eyes made him seem wise beyond his years… and sad beyond measure.

“Well,” fumbled Dean as he stretched his palms toward the fire, “I’m glad you happened to be here… I’d be up shit creek without a paddle if it wasn’t for you.”

“There are many rivers, tributaries and creeks in this area, Dean. None of them are called Shit Creek.”

When Dean’s bellowing laughter wound down he looked at his new friend and said, “Dude, I just meant that I’m kinda stuck here with no supplies. It would’ve been a cold night if I hadn’t lucked into you.”

“Dean, if you needed any assistance that I have provided then I am glad of it,” he said with a smile. It lit up his face and crinkled the corners of his eyes. His teeth were pretty straight and white for a homeless man. Dean smiled back at him. He didn’t miss that the man scooted an inch closer.

“Tell me of your life, Dean,” said the man as his gaze turned back to the fire. “Tell me everything.”


	3. James Bond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to MoniJune for editing and general awesomeness!

Dean watched his new friend through tired eyes. Outside the cave was a cold, dark night. Inside was warm and comfortable. At the behest of his acquaintance, Dean had talked for hours. More than he could remember talking to anyone. Ever. As they sat side by side on a log and stared into the fire, Dean told of growing up in Kansas and playing football in high school. He talked of attending college and becoming a writer. The stranger had listened with an intensity the likes of which Dean had never seen. He chalked it up to the man being starved for company. His assertion that he’d been living in this cave for decades seemed a bit far-fetched, but there was no denying that this poor soul had been alone for far too long.

Dean stood and stretched a few times throughout the evening, pacing around the fire to bring circulation back to his lower half. He wanted to ask the man where he got food and water but for some reason, that seemed trite. Almost rude.

When the stranger asked about his parents, he told him quietly that both were dead.  He explained that shortly after his little brother had gone off to college, there was a house fire. His father, who was an off duty fireman, had called 911 but had never made it out of the house. When the firetruck had arrived, they’d pulled out bodies, not survivors.

Dean self-consciously pushed his palm to his face to wipe away the tear that was falling. But another took its place, and then another. 

For a man so far removed from civilization for so long, this one had excellent instincts. He began asking questions about Sammy, simultaneously giving Dean something more cheerful with which to change the subject and getting up to drag more wood to the fire so Dean would have some privacy to clean up his wet face.

Dean noticed that the man kept his back to Dean as he worked, and when he finally turned back around to sit down on the log with him, Dean gave him a solemn nod to show his appreciation for the courtesy. He told the bum all about his brother. They’d been best buds growing up, him and Sammy. His brother was smarter than him, bypassing the state university for an Ivy League school where he had studied law. His brother was practicing now, back home in Lawrence, and had brought his college girlfriend back with him. Her name was Jessica, and she was perfectly lovely. Dean had no complaints. She was warm and loving towards Sammy, fun to hang out with and had a sense of humor Dean could approve of. She was one of the good ones. Actually, she was on the top shelf of the good ones. As far as Dean could tell, they seemed happy together. Far happier than Dean had ever been with anyone – that was for sure.

His friend was nodding along as he spoke and seemed to always be edging closer. At one point, when Dean turned to look at him, he found the man right up next to him. The gap of several feet that had been mutually put between them when Dean first sat down had been reduced to less than an inch. In fact, their thighs had been touching for a while now, and Dean hadn’t even noticed. But he noticed now. He immediately began to re-think what was happening here. The man’s intent stare, his proximity and his unfettered interest in Dean’s life was… it was… well, disconcerting.

Dean pulled back from the man a little, pretending to stretch his legs as he garnered for more space. And as he stretched, he had to admit to himself that it wasn’t the homeless man’s curiosity or closeness that was perplexing. In all honesty, the disturbing thing was how comfortable Dean was with it.

Realizing that, he stood and began to walk slowly around the fire. He put on a show of stretching his legs and moving around a bit. Really, he was catching his breath. As usual, Dean could not understand his own actions or feelings. He was a mystery even to himself. From the opposite side of the fire, Dean looked at his host and worked up the nerve to finally ask a question of his own.

“Why haven’t you given me your name?”

The man looked down at his tattered, dirty shoes and exhaled a deep breath, “I’m afraid I don’t recall it.”

Dean’s chest constricted sharply with pity. He looked the poor man in the eye and said, “I’m sorry.”

The amnesiac nodded and looked up from where he sat, “He used to know it, the one I came here for. He knew my name. But it has been so very long since it was used that I believe I have forgotten it.”

Dean was only thinking aloud, didn’t even mean to say it, but the question spilled out without his permission, “Do you remember his name? Your friend?”

The answering look was kind and warm, and a small smile formed at one corner of his mouth as he answered, “I think I am remembering it, perhaps with some time I will be able to tell it to you.”

Dean, having forgotten what brought him to standing in the first place, sank back down onto the log next to the most interesting character he’d ever met. He thought nothing of their closeness now. Their thighs pressed together and so did their elbows. Dean smiled unabashedly – it was almost as if this night were a dream. The entire exchange had a surreal quality that had him expecting to wake at any moment.

As if on cue, that was when the daybreak presented itself at the entrance of the cave. The triangle of black that had been the doorway all night was now a very pale blue. It was morning. Soon Dean would have enough light to climb back up to the top of the cliff. He didn’t want to go.

He looked over at his new friend, and he could see an ache in those crystalline eyes. “Are you lonely?” Dean asked him before his brain could control his mouth.

“I am hopeful that you will visit me again,” he said. “Is that what you are asking me?”

“Maybe.” Dean smiled. After all, why else would he have asked unless he was considering exactly that? “It’s a pain in the ass getting down that rockslide ya know,” he said with chuckle – hoping the man would understand if he never saw Dean again.

The man rose when he rose and watched expectantly as Dean moved the first few steps towards the mouth of the cave.

Dean turned back to him and said, “Thanks, man, for lettin’ me crash here. It woulda been a long night without ya.” Dean extended his hand, and the man reached forward and grasped it. The handshake lingered for a moment longer than strictly necessary or normal. But it was warm and kind and good and Dean couldn’t tell himself that he minded.

As he closed the last few feet to the exit, he turned back towards the fire and the man with the forget-me-not blue eyes. Whether it was rational or not, he clearly had a soft spot for the guy. He wanted to help him.

“Say, if I do get back down here… ya need anything? Some food? Money? Booze?”

The man didn’t answer him. But he gave Dean a look that read loud and clear. This man would ask for nothing from Dean. Nothing but his company. Dean smiled and turned toward the light, not looking back again as he stepped out into it.

The hour was quite early. The sky was a wash of pastel blues, pinks and yellows. If the sun had risen, he couldn’t see it directly from his position under the shadow of the cliff face. He walked north along the crescent beach until he came to the place he’d climbed down yesterday and began to ascend. By the time he reached the top, he was sweating under a full sun. He pressed on over the uneven ground, tromping tall grasses and shrubs as he hiked back to the south towards the lighthouse. He paused for a moment when he thought he may be standing directly over the cavern he’d sheltered in overnight. A smile formed before he could help himself, and it stayed on his face for quite a while as he walked back toward civilization.

When he opened the door to the inn, he knew he was a sight. As observant as his hostess was, she likely knew he’d never returned to his room last night. He was sweating and dirty from head to toe. He didn’t see anyone right away and headed for the stairs. Just when he thought he was going to make it unnoticed, he turned his head to the left and saw several faces he didn’t know clustered around the dining room table in an adjacent room. Through the doorway he could only see a few of half dozen or more that must be in there finishing up a damn two-hour breakfast.

There was nothing to do but give them a nod and walk on. He lumbered up the steps nice and slow and assumed that the moment he was out of earshot they’d all begin discussing the strange man who was staying in the Lightkeeper’s Room.

Dean took another hot bath and then crawled to his bed, tired and sore. He slept away the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon. It was past four when he woke. Cascading images had slipped through his mind as he dozed lightly, not really a coherent dream of any kind, just a collage of pictures and feelings. Repeatedly he saw big blue eyes fixed on him, intent and powerful. A feeling of exhilaration spread over him each time he was gazed upon.  He also saw two little boys walking on a beach together, and a strong feeling of devotion permeated the image. There had also been a dragon breathing fire and an angel spreading glorious wings… a pirate ship firing a cannon. Blue eyes.

Waking from the dream left him disappointed, the sense of magic that had accompanied it falling away in the harsh face of reality. He felt sore. He wanted to sleep some more, and he had no reason not to. He was on vacation, after all. But a thought had taken over him, and he couldn’t let it go. He wanted to go back to the cave and the thought taking root energized him quickly. He pulled his duffel over and dumped its contents onto the bed.

He took the quilt that was draped over a rocking chair in the corner and shoved it in. He followed that with a hotel towel and washcloth as well as the entire array of hygiene products from his bathroom across the hall and then he pushed it all down to make it fit and zipped up tight. Then he threw on a clean set of clothes and brushed his teeth. He lingered in the doorway for a moment feeling like there was something important he was overlooking.

A Cheshire grin spread across his face as he realized what it was. He dropped to one knee and took all the bottles from the honor bar. It was a bitch making them all fit, and it took an inordinate amount of time to pack them into the creases of the blanket and towel to keep them from clinking together and breaking as he walked.

He thundered down the stairs and stopped at the front desk. On the counter was a small display of post cards featuring the Heceta Head Lighthouse that he’d toured yesterday. He chose a few of the nicer ones and said, “I’ll take these.” Then he smiled at the lady ringing them up and added, “I’d like to keep the room another night.”

She gave him a receipt and wished him a lovely evening. He replied in kind as he hurried out into the late afternoon sunshine with his bag in hand. The hike over cliff tops was excruciating this time, while he was still stiff and sore from yesterday. He was afraid he’d miss the spot that he’d found so accidentally the first time. So, he punctuated the trip with frequent stops to look around and second guess himself, wondering if he’d missed the spot. He knew he’d better have plenty of daylight when he started his descent down to the sea, so there wasn’t time to waste with doubling back if he missed it. The last thing he wanted was to wind up having to go back to the hotel because he couldn’t find the access down until it was too late to make the climb.

All his fears turned out to be pointless. The giant rock he’d sat on when he’d first stopped there was easily identified from 20 paces. From now on it would be his marker. The thought surprised him because other than returning now, he’d had no further thoughts of returning again in the future. Clearly his subconscious was a few steps ahead of him. He worked the handles of the duffel around his arms, turning it into a makeshift backpack and freeing up his hands for the climb down.

He slid once and thought he might fall, but he didn’t. He did, however, wind up with some palm scrapes from the sharp rocks as he battled to keep his feet under him. Night was falling when he reached the bottom. He didn’t stop to rest, despite being out of breath. He walked briskly over the unstable sand, chest heaving from the exertion.

When his eyes caught sight of a twinkle of firelight a dozen yards ahead, he found himself excited and smiling widely. Dean didn’t think he’d ever been this excited to see another person in his life. As he walked toward the entrance of the cave he slowed. He felt like he was coming to a friend’s house and the polite thing to do would be to knock. But that was crazy. (As crazy as everything else he’d done in the last 12 hours?)

He stepped in slowly as he’d done last time and called out, “Hello?”

“Hello, Dean,” said a deep voice from within. “I am glad you have returned.”

“I have,” Dean smiled as he stepped into the cavern, “And I brought you some stuff.” As Dean spoke, he stopped moving. His body went rigid for a moment as his eyes swept up and down the man before him. Was this the same man?

“What is it, Dean?” prompted the man.

“You, um… you look… different.”

Different was right. He looked 10 years younger – maybe 15. His skin was no longer wrinkled and ashen but firm and tinged with color. His clothes were the same but they were clean and new, right down to the shoes. He certainly didn’t look like he belonged at a bonfire on a beach – he belonged in GQ magazine. His hair was dark and shiny and though it was messy – it was sexy.

Dean had to take a moment to process the fact that he’d just looked at a man and used the word sexy. But, with bigger things to worry about, his mind dropped the hangup pretty quickly.

He surveyed the cavern. Everything else seemed the same. Even the man’s eyes were the same. Livelier perhaps, more invigorated, but the same. Deep. Soulful. Still a hint of loneliness despite Dean returning to visit with him.

“Did you go somewhere today?” Dean asked him.

“No Dean, I have been here since you left.”

“How did you… how did you get… cleaned up?” he found the courage to ask, “Do you have a secret lair in here somewhere with a kitchen and a marble shower?”

The man smiled warmly at Dean as if they were just friends teasing each other. Which they probably were. Dean had known from their first meeting that there was something unusual about this man. To be near him was to feel that you were walking in a dream. Dean felt very protective of him and decided not to think too much about the man’s strangeness or the change in his appearance. It seemed arbitrary somehow, in a way he couldn’t explain.

He moved deeper into the cavern and dropped his bag near the log where he’d sat for most of last night.

“Wanna check out the goods I brought ya?”

“Yes, Dean, but I told you I didn’t need you to bring me anything.”

“I wanted to,” he said, realizing he meant it. His logical mind had supplied him reasons like pity and charity as he’d packed up a bag of things for his new friend. But deep down, in a place logic didn’t intrude, he’d just wanted to give him something. There was no rhyme or reason to it, he just wanted to.

Dean began unpacking things and handing the man little honor bar bottles of rum, vodka and whiskey. Then larger bottles of Sutter Home wine and Bud Light beer.

“Alcohol?” questioned the man. “Your mind clearly ran away with the idea of what a vagrant might want.”

Dean stopped moving and looked up, fearful that he’d hurt the man’s feelings and wondering if he’d accidently used the word vagrant out loud at some point. When their eyes met, his friend’s sparkled with laughter. He was doing it again; that wide grin that used up his entire face and crinkled his eyes at the corners and the top of his nose too. Dean felt his heart begin to race as his own answering smile leapt onto his face and laughter burst out involuntarily. They both laughed long and loud as they each selected a bottle and opened them up. Dean leaned forward from his position on one knee and clinked his bottle to his friend’s in a silent “Cheers!”

The man followed Dean in the gesture, though he didn’t seem to understand the significance. Dean set his bottle carefully on the log and returned to his duffel to unload the rest of what he’d brought. He put the towel, washcloth and toiletries in a neat stack and then handed the man the blanket.

“Thank you, Dean. This is very kind of you. But I don’t get cold. Not the way you do. Perhaps you should keep this.”

Rather than focus on how strange it was for a person to say they don’t get cold, he focused instead on being pragmatic.

“Pick your ass up then,” he said with a chuckle and a flick of his wrist to indicate he wanted his friend to stand. Then he leaned in and unfolded the blanket over the log, making it a softer and more comfortable place to sit.

A minute’s time found them both settled on the cushioned log, side by side. Dean was holding the bag open and pawing through the remaining contents, all food from the honor bar.

“Okay,” he said as he moved his hand around in the bag, “We’ve got chips, cookies, juice, granola bars, and beef jerky.”

“I don’t need to eat, Dean, not like you do.” Dean wasn’t surprised. Nothing surprised him anymore.

“Do you _like_ to eat? I mean, you don’t need to, I get that. But do you _like_ to?”

“Well, I haven’t tried very many things. I had a fruit rollup once. That was interesting. I found the job of consuming it difficult. My friend had fun watching me try. Parts of it lingered in my teeth and required much labor on my part to remove it all.”

Dean chuckled because the scene described had a familiarity to it, “Yeah, I think I saw something like that on a TV show once.” He looked up at the man and couldn’t help but smile again. He felt so happy in his presence and now that their eyes had locked again, he could feel the man leaning in closer. They had definitely been quick to get comfortable in each other’s personal space. Dean caught himself moving away from the closeness he felt and took a moment to ponder why he had done that. What instinct was it that would cause him to move away from closeness he craved? It was strange.

Honestly, this whole thing was strange. He exhaled a breath, not realizing how caught up in his thoughts he’d been until someone pulled him out of them. “What are you thinking about, Dean?”

“Nothing,” Dean said dismissively. “You ever tried anything other than a fruit rollup?”

“I had a cookie once.”

“And what did we think of that?”

“It was enjoyable at first. But I could not finish it. It stuck in my throat.”

“You probably needed some milk,” Dean said as he handed his friend a juice box and a cookie. “We don’t have milk. But see what you make of this.”

Dean watched the man look at the juice box and reached out to take it back, popping the straw into it and taking a drink as a demonstration. He handed the box back to his friend who followed his example. He took several swallows and then relaxed, considering the flavor the way a wine taster might do.

“I enjoy this.”

“Good.” Dean smirked as he bit into a cookie. “We need to think of a name for you. Just something I can call you, ya know, until you remember your real name.”

“Do you have a suggestion, Dean?”

“No. I think you should pick.”

“I would prefer you to choose the name, Dean.”

“Alright then,” said Dean, taking in the man’s perfect suit and sex hair, “you’re Bond, James Bond.”

“My name is James?”

“Yep.”

Dean dusted off his hands when he’d finished with the cookies. He settled comfortably on the log, side by side with James, and watched the flames lick upward and dispatch embers into the darkness overhead.

“When did you decide that you wanted to be a writer?” James asked him.

“Umm, I don’t really know. I mean, I guess with an imagination like mine it was the best fit. I think I was a sophomore when I actually changed my major to Literature.”

“When did you write your first book?”

“Right after graduation. I had six months til I had to start paying off my student loans. I borrowed the maximum amount that last semester and it gave me enough left over after my school was paid to live for a few months without working. I was young enough and stupid enough not to realize what a risk I was taking by doing that. And it worked out well. I kicked out three books bam, bam, bam.”

“What were the books about?”

“Honestly, stuff I’d dreamt up as a kid. I used to have the most vivid dreams and daydreams. I created entire worlds in my damn head. It was so clear in my mind… it was like watching a movie. It was so easy to just get it down on paper. It was – well, it was fun.”

“You dreamed up worlds.”

“Yep. My first three books were about a planet called Somnuvel. The six countries of Somnuvel were always at war. Each had its own government and unique way of doing things and its own reasons for hating another country. There were magical creatures and tokens of power and battles for acquisition and for vengeance… power changed hands and kingdoms rose and fell… like I said… three books. Bam. Bam. Bam.”

“Dragons?”

“Yep.”

“Pirates?”

“Funny you mention that. Yeah. That was my next book. It was the story of a pirate who kidnaps a princess as a bargaining tool. He ends up hating her so much that he beheads her and sends the head back to the king. The king sends mercenaries after the pirates, and the captain keeps sending the heads back to the king. It doesn’t end the way you’d think,” smiled Dean.

“How does it end?”

“You’re gonna have to read it, my friend.”

James smiled at him warmly and nudged him a little with his shoulder. Dean nudged back. They spent the entire night talking about random things – mostly Dean’s characters and stories and the various inspirations for them. They worked through the little bottles as they laughed and talked.

Dean got up to piss at one point. When he returned, James watched him as he stumbled around fruitlessly looking for an unopened bottle. When he found himself empty handed he pulled out two juice boxes and gave one to James as he settled in.

Dean chuckled as he watched James do the “cheers” thing with his juice box. Dean followed the action, clunking his box against his friends, glassy eyed and warm in his chest and face. His head was getting heavy, hard to hold up. He knew he was going to pass out soon. He shifted his weight off the log and fumbled to one knee. He could feel James watching him as he pulled his part of the blanket they were sitting on down to the ground and began rolling it up. James was still sitting on his part of it, and Dean’s part was now rolled up like a sleeping bag and pressed against the man’s ankle.

As Dean finished rolling what would become his pillow for the night, clean and shiny black shoes caught his attention. His eyes roved up from the foot to the leg in pressed black dress slacks and then higher. Eventually his eyes locked with deep blue ones. Dean leaned in slowly, getting closer than he had so far, pulled forward by a force he could not explain. He rested his hand on James’ knee for support. With his lips an inch from the chapped pink lips of his mysterious friend, Dean whispered, “James, what _are_ you?”

His answer never came. But soft lips met his own. Dean sucked in a breath through his nose and pushed closer, deeper. He wanted, needed, to taste and touch; to hold and feel. An arm wrapped around his neck and soft lips parted beneath his. He sank in and licked the flavor of whiskey and apple juice. An exploring tongue slid alongside his and the sensation pulled goosebumps from him, head to toe. A sense of completion filled him like nothing he’d ever felt before. A sense of fate, of destiny, of magic.

When their lips broke apart, they both breathed deeply but didn’t pull away. Dean was spinning. He wanted to open his eyes to orient himself, but he couldn’t. He could feel his friend face-to-face with him, mouths inches apart and both breathing the same air, both wanting the same thing. Dean willed himself not to pass out. But it was useless; he could feel himself sinking.

“Good night, Dean” he heard the low voice whisper in his ear.

Dean mumbled a response as he dropped to the ground against his will, “G’nite, Cas.”


	4. I Was Sexy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks MoniJune, for all your work to fix as many of my errors as possible!

Dean felt consciousness returning, but willfully sank back into his dreams several times before losing his ability to do so. He’d been flying… swooping down over huge breaking waves on the back of a large, sleek dragon. It was a recurring dream he’d had since he was a boy, and he loved it. But, too soon the dull ache in his neck and the urge to piss pulled him from the dream no matter how badly he wanted to stay there.

Moving to sit up he found himself gritty and, as his brain began to function, he realized that he’d actually slept on the dirty, sandy floor of a cave. He could smell smoke, so he knew the fire was still going. His friend had likely been tending it while he slept. The man didn’t eat, didn't get cold… what was the likelihood that he actually slept?

Begrudgingly, Dean sat up. He leaned against the log they’d been sitting on for days, having slept curled up next to it with his makeshift bedroll as a pillow. He was covered in sand and couldn’t even bush it from his face effectively because the stuff was clinging to his hands too. No amount of brushing them together would remove it all. There was even sand in his hair. Dean had crusty eyes, a throbbing neck and a moderate hangover. What he needed was some aspirin, a warm shower, and a soft bed. He groaned out loud as he remembered how far away those things were.

Hearing movement from farther back in the cave, Dean picked his head up and peeled his bleary eyes open to look around and found himself alone by the fire. It was still dark outside so he must not have slept for too long… a few hours maybe? Slowly he staggered to his feet and shuffled to the entrance of the cave to take a leak. As he was enjoying the feel of a cool breeze on his face, the memory of a kiss presented itself and Dean realized that he had kissed a man. He was glad his back was to the cave so that his friend wouldn’t have to watch him remember it and cringe.

He hated to admit it, but that kiss had meant something. Dean was no spring chicken. He was a middle-aged man. He’d had lots of meaningless sex over the years and this wasn’t the first time he’d woken up hungover and had to deal with something kinky he’d done in a drunken haze. But this thing with… James… was a first. He remembered everything. This wasn’t a drunken tumble with a warm and willing body. He had _felt_ things. _Wanted_ things. This was _more_ , there was no denying it. The only thing to do was figure out where to go from here.

Was he going to admit his feelings and move forward? Try to make something of them? Try a relationship with a man instead of a woman and see how it goes? See if it’s different? None of these questions could be answered, though. Not really. Because James wasn’t a man. At least, not like Dean was. Of that, he was certain. Dean sagged against the rock-face, exhausted.,

He contemplated walking back to the fire and telling this man, this friend, this enigma, that he’s feeling warm and fuzzy towards him and just asking if those feelings were mutual. On the heels of that thought was a more pressing one… what if James’ answer was yes? Would they try and share some kind of strange life together? It seemed like that should be simple because everything else with James had been so easy and so natural. But this? A talk about feelings and relationships? Dean thought he’d rather eat dirt.

Still confused, he walked back into the cave. The fire was reduced mostly to embers, a few renegade flames popping up here and there, and the cavern was much darker without the blaze. James was nowhere to be seen.

Dean called out to him as he approached the fire, “James?”

No one answered. Bending, he fumbled through his bag and pulled out a juice box, the last one, and gulped it down. “James?” he called out again.

“I am here, Dean,” said a deep voice from far away.

Dean turned his head, following the sound and trying to get a read on the location of the voice. It was too high somehow, as if the cave had a loft overhead and James was hiding in it. Or, perhaps his unearthly companion was hanging from the ceiling like a bat.

“Why can’t I see you?” Dean asked bravely, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

“I’m afraid you will not like what you see when you look at me. I’ve hidden myself.”

“What makes you think I won’t like what I see?”

“You were startled yesterday when my appearance changed.” The voice was hard to pinpoint, it seemed to be moving around. “I am afraid,” James continued, “that the changes are more significant this time.”

Dean felt resigned. He sat down on the log and said what was in his heart while simultaneously making a secret wish for the balls to back it up. “I don’t care what you look like, man. I don’t. Just come out of the dark. Don’t hide from me.” With that said, Dean closed his eyes and rested his head in hands as he waited. It was entirely too quiet as he waited.

“James?” he ventured.

“Yes, Dean.” This time, the response came from much closer. Dean picked his head up to look, bracing himself for something hideous. The first thing he saw were the eyes. They were huge compared to regular human eyes, but they were undeniably the same ones he’s been staring into for the last two days. Those giant glassy orbs blinked and then descended, coming cautiously closer. In the faint light of a dying fire, Dean began to make out James’ new shape. Stunned, he got to his feet and took a step closer.

The large cerulean eyes locked on him and dropped lower still, almost to Dean’s level. Up close now, he could see that they were embedded into scales. Either dark blue or black, he couldn’t be certain. There were large pink nostrils flaring with each breath and over sized ears that twitched nervously. Beyond the head was a very long neck. The dark skin was unmistakably reptilian. Even as his eyes drank in the sight, his mind was denying that what he was seeing could possibly be real. But somehow, it was. It was a dragon. James had become a dragon.

The animal’s movements were fluid, long neck bending gracefully to bring his head down to Dean’s level and then lower. With Dean watching, spellbound, the dragon laid its head on the ground at Dean's feet. It was a gesture of utter submission.

This moment was so incredible that Dean hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath. He swooned before finally realizing what was happening. Greedily he gulped in several deep breaths as he worked to stay on his feet. His mind lit up with a spinning wheel of possible responses, but none felt sufficient and his silence was getting long. James obviously needed reassurance from Dean; it was all over his face. The wheel came to an abrupt halt and delivered nothing for Dean but the word “Incredible.” It sounded ridiculously insignificant as it fell from his lips.

He stepped forward and dropped to his knees on the ground near his friend’s head. He dug fingers into the sand to get them under the massive chin of that enormous head and lift it. Steady blue eyes never wandered from Dean’s. Both of them stared intently at the other as Dean whispered again, “Incredible.” There simply weren’t words that would do this moment justice.

“You are not afraid of me?” James asked.

“Of course not,” he whispered. “You’re still you… I can still see you.”

“I thought you remembered me last night. You called me by name. The name you gave me. Perhaps you did remember me for a moment, and that’s why I have taken this form.”

Dean had to pick one staggering thing to focus on at a time. He went with the name thing.

“I called you by name? I knew your name?”

“Well, yes. You called me by a shortened version of my name. A nickname that you often used back when we were friends. You called me Cas.”

“I named you Cas?”

“You named me Castiel. You said it was a name suited for a dragon.”

“I agree,” he said, still whispering reverently. “It suits you far better than James.”

It was difficult to guess the dragon’s size in the dark, but he must’ve been at least 20 feet long. Probably 12-15 feet high and 5-6 feet wide. His tail slithered back and forth in the grit on the floor. It had a barb at the end. 

“You told me once that your mother fancied angels and that you took the name Castiel from a book about them. Then later, you found out that you had mispronounced the name and it was actually Cassiel. But you said you didn’t care… that you liked it my way better. So we left it as Castiel. Although, you did call me Cas more often than anything else.”

“I think so much about dragons man, you have no idea. They’re in so many of my books.”

“Well that makes sense. It was the form you initially imagined for me, and it was always your favorite.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You are the one who determines what I look like, Dean. How you feel about me… I take on that form. I cannot control it. That is how it has always been.”

Deep in his chest, Dean's thudding heart lumbered heavily as it accepted the truth of Castiel's words. Reality began to shift as the line between dreams, fantasies, and memories seemed to blur. Dean’s eyes pricked with tears as a sense of awe and wonder settled over him. Slowly, his logical mind began to accept that many of his best childhood imaginings hadn't been imagined at all. As his tears grew heavy and slipped down his cheeks, Dean reached out tentatively. With his hand hovering halfway between himself and his friend, he tried to in vein speak. His throat was tight and a great deal of effort was required to push the words out. “I dream of you..." he managed to whisper, "... all the time. I just never knew it was real. I thought I made it up.”

“No, Dean. It was very real.”

“It was real, wasn’t it?" he said through a smile. "You took me flying. We swam and played and…” Dean choked on a sob as the memories came flooding back. He’d thought them to be just the fantasies of a little boy… the product of a vivid imagination…

“Oh how I've missed you, Dean.”

“I’ve missed you too, Cas,” husked Dean, finally closing the gap between them. He stepped forward and wound his arms around the long neck that held the bobbing head of the most incredible creature he’d ever known. He felt himself being moved, but didn’t open his eyes as the chin of a large dragon head tucked in against his back. A makeshift hug.

“I dreamt of us flying just now,” he said, pulling out of the hug and wiping his tear streaked face on his shirt sleeve. “Is that why you've changed into a dragon?”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps you are feeling the emotions associated with flying… I do not understand the mechanics of it.”

Dean was feeling lightheaded and moved to seat himself back on the log. But, wanting to be nearer to Cas, he sat on the very end of it. His dragon-friend curled up comfortably next to him. They both were silent for a moment as they watched the last of the flames turn to dark red embers. The light in the cavern was reduced to almost nothing now, and so was the heat. Dean shivered and was about to reach for the dirty blanket when Cas lifted his head and opened his mouth wide.

Dean felt more than heard the intake of air, and then suddenly there was blinding light as a flare of blue flame shot out into the dark. Dean grinned, remembering this trick. Cas was relighting the fire.

“Can’t believe you thought I’d be scared of you,” he laughed lightly.

“This form is quite terrifying.”

“Yeah, you’re as terrifying as a teddy.”

Dean turned from the firelight to see Cas pull himself to full height. His neck arched and his teeth bared.

“Try again, _James_.” Teased Dean, not wanting to admit how cool it had really looked.

Cas flopped to the ground and dropped his head at Dean's feet. One eye blinked open and looked up at Dean contemplatively. “Why did you name me James?”

“Um…” chuckled Dean, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously, “You were all sexy in your suit yesterday. It made me think of James Bond.”

Cas’ head lifted a few feet. “I was sexy?”

Dean smiled. “Yeah man, you really were.” Cas was smiling too. It was only a slight curl of the mouth. Mostly, the smile was in his eyes.

“I am glad you thought I was sexy,” Cas said softly. “It makes me feel better about the first day.”

“The first day?”

“Yes, Dean. You are the one who determines what I look like. However you think of me, that’s how I am. What did you see when you first found me here?”

Dean immediately recoiled at the significance of that. He’d seen a haggard vagrant. Used up, useless and alone. Pity filled his heart at the thought that this majestic creature had been reduced to the body of an old and broken homeless man. Once more, Dean thought of their kiss last night, and the question that had preceded it.

“Cas, what are you?”

“I do not know, Dean. I just am what I am.”

“Well apparently, you are what I make you,” he laughed.

“Humans have lots of words for what I am. Fairy godmother, guardian angel, imaginary friend… I am all of them and none of them,” he said with a sigh.

“I remember you as a boy, too,” Dean said, looking away, “We played on the beach together. Not often, but we did.”

“Yes,” Cas confirmed. “You kissed me then too.”

“I did?” Dean asked, looking back at Cas.

“Yes, Dean.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“I do,” the dragon said wistfully, closing his eyes. Dean watched silently as the dragon curled himself into a ball, tail swooping around the outside and wrapping around himself as he settled in.

Cas didn’t open his eyes again for quite a while. Dean looked him over. Every inch.

With the fire roaring again, he could see more detail. The scales were indeed black, but they had a shimmer of electric blue to them as they reflected light. His tail was black at its largest point and then as it grew smaller, it lightened to blue. The tip and its barb were both bright, iridescent blue. The tail tip matched the eyes flawlessly.

Dean longed to touch, and with no reason to deny himself, he reached out. Cas sighed as Dean ran a hand along his cheek. Still wanting more, Dean got to his feet and moved in a circle around Cas, running his hand along flanks as he walked. He felt the scales under his palm. They were thick and leathery with an outer shell that was hard as nails. But they moved under his hand, accommodating his touch. Coming full circle around his friend, he found himself standing stark still and stroking the dragon’s neck as he watched the sun come up through the entrance to the cave.

It had been quiet for so long that Dean thought his friend was asleep. So when he spoke, it startled him.

“Do you have to leave, Dean?”

“Well, for a little while anyway. That hotel doesn’t have room for me tonight. I’ll need to move to another.”

“Will you promise me something, Dean?”

“Anything, Cas.”

“If you ever wish to leave me again, please come and say good-bye. It will keep me from having to wait for you in exile.”

The words cut Dean deeply. He remembered very clearly the last thing he’d spoken to his dragon. He’d told him he’d be right back and asked him to wait. Now that his memories were clearer, he knew it had been right here. The rockslide he’d climbed down to reach this beach had once been a cliff with a hotel perched on it. He’d been staying there with his family and exploring the area with Cas when he was free to wander. When he’d parted from Cas, he’d planned to come back. But he hadn’t been able to. It was sickening to know his dragon had waited for him here, for decades. Alone. Sad. Rejected. It was too much. Dean would never forgive himself for choosing to move on and leave this magnificent creature behind.

His father had been the reason… the iron fist that slammed down on the table and told him that Cas was just a figment of his imagination. His dad had ordered him to forget about his imaginary friend and grow up. It was impossible to argue with John Winchester and, eventually, Dean had stopped trying. In the end, it had been far too easy to convince Dean it was all in his head. Partially because no one but him had ever seen Castiel, and partially because he had lacked the self-esteem to stand up for what he’d valued. But Dean should’ve been stronger, believed harder. The proof was here at his feet.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, Cas,” Dean said firmly, “And that’s the promise of a man, not a boy.”

Cas gave a nod and pulled his head up to Dean's eye level. “Would you like a ride to your hotel?”

Dean grinned widely, like he was 7 years old again. “Fuck yeah!” he shouted as he began gathering his things. Cas used his giant clawed feet to kick sand over the fire. The strong sea breeze gusted as Dean walked out of the cave. From a few paces away, he turned back to watch his dragon exit behind him. In the full light of day he got a real look at him for the first time. Cas was glorious. He was everything Dean had imagined or remembered and more. It was comical to watch this magnificent creature squeeze a little to pull his giant body forcefully out of the crevice, and then he dropped his jaw as he watched Castiel spread his wings wide and stretch them. He was in awe.

“So,” Dean said tentatively, “can people see you?”

“No. Only you can see me.”

“Good,” Dean said with a genuine smile, “It’s probably best not to be seen flying around the lighthouse. They’ve already got ghost stories up there… we don’t need them starting dragon stories too.”

Dean felt Cas’ tail slide around his waist and lift him gently, high into the air. As he was lowered down onto Castiel’s back, Dean spread his legs and came to rest in the position of a rider on horseback. Over Cas’ spine were several large dorsals. He remembered holding onto one as a child, so he took hold of it now, knowing he was expected to hang on tight. He was giddy at the thought of taking flight.

Cas turned his head back and waited for Dean to nod that he was ready then lumbered a few steps before he reared up and heaved himself into the air with a great leap. As they came off the ground, Dean felt the heavy whoosh of the wings behind him and then the dizzying sensation of liftoff. With each heft of Castiel’s huge wings, the dragon’s body ascended proportionately to the thrust. This repeated with each heavy flap of wings, their initial takeoff slow and cumbersome but growing more fluid as they climbed higher.

Dean turned to look out over the ocean as they rose and then looked back toward the cliff face just as they crested it. The morning was beautiful. Dean tightened his grip on the dorsal as they swung out over the water and began to arc to the south. Cas seemed to be dazzling him with the sights, moving back and forth between land and water as they followed the shoreline back towards the lighthouse.

Dean’s heart raced as they flew, wind in his hair and strong body beneath him increasing speed and swooping low over the trees to thrill him. He held on and shouted out both praises and encouragements for Cas, loving the ride. Tears stung in the corners of his eyes from the wind. When they arrived at their destination, Cas tucked his head in, pulling them into an easy glide. They circled like hawks do, losing a little elevation with each loop. The lighthouse, once so tall, now looked like a toy. Cas looked back at Dean out of the corner of his eye and caught Dean grinning like a fool. As they swooped lower, Dean’s eyes roved over the expanse of Castiel’s outstretched wings. He’d dreamt this so many times in his life, and always the feeling of elation was what he remembered when he woke. The reality of this was beyond words.

When the ground was in reach, Cas tipped his entire body back, using his wings for leverage. This seemed to break their forward momentum and allowed the dragon to set his hind legs on solid ground in a massive thump. His front legs followed and soon Dean was being lifted again, dangled over the thick grass and shrubs that covered the hill beyond the lighthouse. When he was set down on his own feet, his heart was beating so heavily that his ears were ringing. He couldn’t stop smiling or calm the waves of euphoria that rolled over him.

“Thanks, Cas,” he breathed, leaning against his friend’s massive shoulder.

“Of course, Dean.”

“It’s gonna take me some time to get to another motel, get settled and get back here. But, I’m coming back, ok?”

“Okay, Dean. Or I could just follow you.”

Dean grinned and nodded. “Even better.”

Putting his hand up as a farewell gesture, he turned and began walking back towards the Heceta Head Lighthouse. This was the happiest he'd been – ever in his adult life. Eager to get back to his friend, Dean rushed through his room, shoving things into his bags. At the counter he paid his bill and left without even looking at how much the bed and breakfast had set him back. Then he fired up his Baby and headed north. As he roared down the highway with his arm out the window, he glanced skyward as often as he could to catch glimpses of Castiel soaring above him.


	5. I'm Lois Lane in This Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, MoniJune, for doing double duty on this fic!

Dean reached out, anticipation spiking steeply. He watched it, his hand, as it tenuously stretched out into the dark. Instinctually he knew what it was reaching for – and desire for it curled in his belly. Heat flooded his groin and his body ached with a raw, unquenchable need. Nearby, the apex of his desire was reaching for him too. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel it. As they pressed toward one another in the dark, his flesh was consumed with a crackling fire of lust and passion like he’d never felt before and his consciousness sought the tantalizing fulfillment of their imminent joining.

But then, in a blink, perception was shifted. Reality came rushing in, unwelcome, and a sickening sadness washed over him as he realized that his rush of euphoria had been nothing but a dream. Disappointment spread through him at the betrayal of his own mind… that it had played such a cruel joke on him. His hand held nothing; touched nothing. He was alone.

Ultimately, this was normal. It didn’t usually bother Dean to wake up alone, even from his most enticing dreams. But now, having spent precious time warming to the presence of someone who evoked such deep feelings in him, Dean was suddenly aware of how empty the spaces around him feel when that presence is absent.

Dean turned over in bed, nursing his disenchantment as he put his feet to the floor. It wasn’t easy to shrug off the remnants of his dream and face reality. As he took stock of himself, he remembered checking into this motel under a warm sun. He’d parked outside the door to this unit and searched the sky for Castiel. As he’d slid the keycard into the lock, he’d seen no sign of his friend… his dragon?

He’d grimaced as a niggling feeling of doubt pressed in on him. It was one thing to see an undeniable reality in front of you and adjust your mind to count an imaginary beast among the concrete realities of civilization. It was another thing to continue believing in something so magical when the proof of it is removed from sight.

Castiel was undeniably real when he was close; towering over him with a long neck, thick body, clawed feet, blue tipped tail and those glassy sapphire eyes that held an eternity in their gaze. But the moment Dean was away from his presence, every molecule in his body began screaming that it couldn’t have been real. It simply wasn’t possible. Castiel was far too incredible to be part of the real world with its concrete jungles, its suburban sprawls, its mundane people doing ordinary things and leading uneventful lives. Cas simply wasn’t real unless Dean’s mind was forced to accept it – by staring at it in awe. 

It was no wonder that, when Dean was a child, John Winchester had so easily managed to convince him that Cas wasn’t real; that it had all been in his head. Reality, after all, is what we ALL see. When only one person sees something? They get a padded cell and antipsychotic drugs – whether they like it or not. Just after checking into this motel, Dean had lingered in the doorway of his room for a moment as he entertained the idea that antipsychotic drugs were exactly what he needed.

Then, sweet relief had descended as he’d heard the thump of his dragon’s weight touching down on the roof over his head. That sound had been followed by the clicking of claws on the metal roof as Cas had walked to the edge and peered over. Dean had dropped his bag on the floor and smiled as he’d stepped back out from the shadow of the cool motel room. He’d cupped his hand over his brow to shield against the bright sunlight as he’d gazed upward and smiled at his dragon.

“You stop for gas or something?” he’d teased.

“It is a beautiful day, Dean. I was enjoying myself.”

Dean had nodded and watched Cas tip his head to the side. Even in the form of a dragon those eyes were so expressive. They looked on him with curiosity, head tilting to the side and ears perked up. “What is it, Dean?”

“Nothin’. I just…,” words were escaping him. “Just give me a sec, okay?”

His otherworldly friend had uncoiled his long neck, lowering his heavy head to the edge of the roof. He peered down, face-to-face, and asked, “What troubles you?”

Dean couldn’t answer that. Just couldn’t. Because the most honest answer would’ve been, “Your absence.” Instead of admitting to the doubt and insecurities that plagued him when outside of his friend’s presence, he opted for distraction.

“I need to shower, Cas. I need to eat. I should probably sleep some too. I might need, like, four hours. Do you have anything you need to do? Or were you plannin’ to just hang out up there for the afternoon?”

“I’ll watch over you,” Cas had said with conviction. Dean had smiled as he watched the creature lumber in a circle the way a dog does before it lies down on its bed. Cas settled in, as he had on the cave floor, curled on his side. His neck bent around himself and his tail tucked in along the side of his body; head resting peacefully. His position was reminiscent of a cat napping in the warm sun.

The reality of Castiel was, once again, undeniable as Dean gazed up at the huge dragon resting comfortably on the red metal roof of the Comfort Inn and Suites. With his dragon watching over him, it had been easy to crawl into bed and fall into a restful sleep.

Now, having awakened alone and unsatisfied after such a visceral dream, Dean took in the waning light and white noise of cars on the highway nearby. Both were indications that it must be late afternoon or early evening. He had showered and taken some aspirin before crawling into bed. But now that he was rested, his appetite for real food was presenting itself. As was his desire to lean out the door and look up at the sentry posted on his roof… just to be sure that Cas was still as real as he’d been a few hours ago.

When Dean stepped outside, a chilly breeze ghosted his skin, and the gathering gloom of dusk added to the empty feeling he was carrying in his chest. Baby sat in her parking space, sleek and black and reflecting the colorful lights in proximity. Neon signs, street lights and the tail lights of passing cars all reflected in her flawless and meticulously waxed paint job. Dean took a few steps toward her and then turned, resting his hip on her side panel as he turned his gaze upward to the place he’d last seen Castiel.

There was no dragon on the roof. The evening sky was devoid of real light and held only a wash of soft colors. Bathed in the soft hues of dusk was a man, seated on the roof where Cas had been. The man appeared to have a blanket draped over his shoulders. Dean forced his eyes to focus… to look upon the man and take in his form… see what this new embodiment of Castiel  would really look like.

Dean had to admit, his pulse picked up as he took in the skin, the hair, the form and likeness of a human. He wasn’t unaware of the desire that lingered beneath the surface in him. He wanted Cas. It was thrilling to be reunited with his long-lost friend, but he felt more than friendship and it was undeniable.

Being told that Dean’s younger self had kissed Cas while in the embodiment of boy, likely an imagined playmate, had made him realize that perhaps they’d never really been “just friends.” Maybe they had always been destined for more.

And, admittedly, had he stayed with Cas in his youth rather than abandon him; he would’ve likely come to slowly discover sexual urges as he grew older… that one chaste kiss between young friends eventually evolving into the lingering and passionate kisses of lovers.

But now, thrust back together with Cas in his adult body, there was no denying what he felt. And he could sense it on Cas too… it was like a current that moved between them, invisible but no less tangible.

Under the rising moon Castiel, in the form of a man, was sitting like a gargoyle. His knees were drawn up to his chest and his head rested on them, oblivious to Dean in this moment. As his eyes adjusted to the encroaching darkness, Dean discovered a startling reality. It wasn’t a large blanket that covered this man’s naked skin. It was wings. They were either deep charcoal grey or black and they rested, folded over his hunched shoulders and spread around his body to cover him almost completely.

Dean could not determine with accuracy the exact color of the wings, and he could not guess their texture either. But he smiled softly as he remembered Cas saying, “I’ll watch over you.”

Dean had to admit that he must be quite impressionable. The incarnation of Castiel as an angel rather than a dragon likely stemmed, at least partially, from that statement and the feelings Dean had internalized of Cas as sentry who would guard and protect him as he slept. Castiel was a powerful but benevolent force that lingered here and waited for him to rise from slumber. And now, under the darkening sky, he was a black-winged angel whose presence both thrilled and reassured.

Dean wanted to call out to the angel but had no idea what to say to a creature so timeless. He was awestruck and humbled. They’d only been back together a few days. But already Dean treasured this spirit who had been the only true companion he’d ever known. Castiel had settled softly in his heart, and Dean’s chest grew tight as he acknowledged that he’d been blessed with this presence. Both as a boy and as a man.

But, by whom? What heavenly power had bestowed such a gift on him? Who did he thank? Dean didn’t speak loudly. He knew Cas would hear him, even from clear up on his perch.

“Who sent you to me?” he asked.

The dark mop of thick hair lifted and his friend’s countenance gazed down on him, favoring him with a soft smile. “I don’t know.”

“Are there others like you?”

“Yes.”

“You have a family?”

Castiel nodded. “Not in the same sense that you do, Dean. But yes. I don’t know them, or remember them on this plane. But their presence is with me in my heart.”

“Why are you here?”

“I am here for you, Dean.”

“Why?” he asked honestly. There was nothing special about him to merit this gift.

“I don’t know.”

Dean didn’t move. He just leaned on his car and watched as the angel on the roof rose. As he stood, his shoulders straightened and his wings extended wide to stretch and then pulled back behind him. He wasn’t totally naked, Dean realized. He had a soft billowing cloth hanging by one shoulder, draped around him and making him look even more like the angels depicted in countless works of art.

Cas leaned forward then, eyes on Dean, and lunged. As he plummeted forward off the roof, his wings fluttered and then cupped air to arrest his fall. They spread again, turning skyward and pulling the angel vertical. A soft flap and then he was standing next to Dean, wings tucking behind him.

“It would seem that you cannot make up your mind about me, Dean,” Cas teased with a mocking smile.

“Hey man, I’m as surprised as you are,” he chuckled, raising his hands and shoulders in a questioning gesture. He moved away from the car to stand next to his angel, “It’s not a conscious thing. I’m not doing anything… to make you to change. Not on purpose anyway. You just do. I’m not sure what to make of it.”

Cas’ eyes held him in that moment. He was powerless to move or speak. Something passed between them that Dean had no name for. The feeling was reminiscent of having a child cup their hand to the side of his face and whisper a secret to him. This secret, however, was not one of words. It was more of a feeling. Before Dean had a chance to ruin the perfect moment, Cas spoke again.

“I cannot answer your questions the way you want me to, Dean. I was not born the way humans are. I never was young and grew up. I have always existed, then as now.”

Dean nodded, never breaking their eye contact.

“I know that I have existed in other planes. I can feel it. But the memories of those didn’t follow me here. I was either _put here_ _for you_ – or was brought here _by you_. I do not know which is correct, and I do not care. I am here with you. What else matters?” he asked as he cocked his head and looked at Dean again through curious eyes.

“Nothing,” Dean answered honestly.

Cas leaned in and for one glorious moment, Dean thought he was to be kissed by an angel. But no. Cas simply pressed his face close, dominating Dean's senses completely and asked, “Shall we fly again?”

Thrilled, but still grappling with his awe and unable to speak, Dean nodded his agreement. Tingles of excitement spread from his core to his limbs as Cas pulled him close, encircling Dean in his arms. Once they were tucked together, chest to chest, Cas tightened his grip and then lunged into the air. The force of it knocked Dean's breath from him and he could feel the power of his angel's wings as they unfurled and began a rhythmic flapping that carried the two of them higher.

Dean sucked in a ragged breath and didn’t watch the Earth around him grow smaller as they ascended to the heavens. He watched Cas as they breathed together. Ethereal eyes stared into his soul as the night sky spun around them and the air in his lungs grew thin.

“Look around you, Dean,” Cas whispered.

Dean tore his eyes from the blue ones that held mysterious depths of cosmic power. The sky was now a canopy of deep blue decorated with millions of twinkling stars that had never looked so close. There were no clouds nearby, and the moon was large – Dean could see detail in it as never before. He was panting before he even looked down – starved for oxygen at this height. He looked back at the face of his angel and watched as his mouth opened into a wide circle and expelled breath towards Dean. It was oxygen rich, what Dean’s body was panting for, and it smelled sweet... like summer flowers and honey. He drank it in.

Dean’s heart was still hammering, wild excitement coursing through his veins. But with Cas’ breath in his lungs, he was stable enough to finally look down. The sight of the Earth so far beneath him was dizzying despite the strong arms that held him. He could see the bend of the Earth in broad scope. The shape of the continent was clear thanks to the smattering of lights, more populated areas glowing with huge clusters while rural areas showed only an occasional twinkle. A shooting star caught Dean's attention and as it streaked behind Cas’ head, Dean returned his eyes to his companion. Castiel's arm then moved purposefully from his waist to the back of his neck. Then, without warning, Dean felt himself being tipped backward. 

He watched a dizzying rotation of stars spin past him and found himself falling, plunging headfirst towards Earth. Wind shear tore at his clothing and buffeted his face. He couldn’t keep his eyes open against it. Fighting not to close them, he refocused on the face of his angel just a few inches from his own with his eyes reduced to slits. Castiel was wearing a wicked and mischievous grin but didn’t speak. He breathed on Dean again, and Dean gulped it in. He tried once more to tip his face into the wind and watch the Earth beneath them draw closer, but it was hopeless. He couldn’t open his eyes against the force of it. They were in freefall, arms wound tightly around one another.

Dean wasn’t afraid. But his heart was pounding in his chest and adrenaline was surging through his body. He could hear his own blood roaring in his ears. He’d never felt more alive than he did in this moment, and he longed to stretch out his arms and embrace the feeling. Then he heard a flap, reminiscent of the sound made when his mother had snapped a clean sheet out over his bed. Instinctively, he knew that sound was Cas spreading his wings.

He waited until he felt their momentum slow a bit before opening his eyes. When he did, Cas was still staring at his face, clearly enjoying Dean's reaction to the ride. Dean smiled widely at his friend and then looked around. They were dipping in a graceful arc, beginning to divert from freefall into a horizontal flight, parallel to the ground.

His brain registered the change as their momentum from falling was channeled into forward motion – speed gracefully redirected. Dean was still looking at Cas, whose face was framed by the starry night sky. Wings were stretched wide above them, not flapping but gliding on an updraft. Wrapped in strong arms, Dean’s back was to the ground and as they slowed more, Cas’ wings began to pump. Dean could feel the lift and drag as they worked.

Gravity became noticeable in this position, his legs pulling back towards Earth as they lost forward momentum. Without even thinking, he heaved his abdominal muscles and thrust his legs upward, wrapping them around Cas’ to hang on and keep his body in prone position.

Suddenly, Dean felt laughter bubbling up in his chest and he couldn’t hold back, “I see you like it on top,” he joked as his body held even tighter to his angel. Cas stared at him from under an arched eyebrow.

“Clearly I’m Lois Lane in this story,” Dean said, still laughing. Cas seemed to get the spirit of the joke if not necessarily the specifics of it.

“You’re the one who writes the stories, Dean,” Cas corrected with an enchanting smile.

“Yeah, but if I wake up tomorrow and you’re wearing red and blue spandex, I’m pretty sure that’ll kill the magic for me.”

Cas looked away then, just for a moment, apparently choosing a place for them to land. Dean felt himself dipped and then pulled vertical. They settled softly into tall grass. Tearing his eyes from Cas, Dean looked around as he oriented his body to being on terra firma and untangled his limbs from Cas’. He waited for his legs to support his weight before stepping back from the solid body of his angel.

They were perched on a clifftop now. Clearly they hadn’t come far from the motel, just out from civilization a ways and back to the coast, which was admittedly a better view that the one from the roof of the Comfort Inn.

Dean glanced back at Cas, cut against the backdrop of deep green pines that swayed in the breeze behind him. His face looked the same as it had in the cave. Expressive eyebrows, wide cheekbones, inviting lips. His shoulders were strong and defined, his arms toned and skin smooth. The angel’s chest was heaving from the effort of his flight and his wings flexed behind him before folding at his back. His tunic flapped softly around his calves.

Dean swallowed, taking it all in.

“I mean it,” he said gruffly, rough laughter escaping him, “I DO NOT want to wake up tomorrow and find you wearing a unitard and a cape.” Then, before he could stop himself, he added, “I want you just as you are.”

As soon as the words were out, Dean gaped at them. There were so many meanings behind them. And his desire for Castiel hung between them, acknowledged out loud now and with conviction. It was pointless to try and take the words back. He didn’t want to. But he couldn’t hold his friend’s gaze either. He shifted his attention instead, choosing to look out toward the sea and walk away from Cas. He moved to the edge of the cliff and stood looking down at the ocean. Slowly he bent at the knees and folded into a seated position to watch the moon dance over the waves.

Cas soon settled beside him. They spent most of the evening there, just talking and sharing closeness. When the moon began to set, Cas took Dean in his arms again, but this time he found himself facing out, away from his friend. Dean’s back was to Cas’ strong chest as his angel hefted him up to the heavens. They sailed across the last of the night sky, swooping over the forest first and eventually out over the ocean. Cas hung Dean low over the water so he could stretch his hand down and trail fingertips in the cold water as it rolled gently beneath them. They toured over a few nearby towns too, all were sleepy in the predawn hours. When they landed back at Dean’s hotel, the dawn was just breaking.

As he felt his feet touch pavement in the parking lot, Dean found his limbs buzzing.  It was similar to the feeling that accompanies the use of a power tool. When it shuts off, the vibration stays in your limbs for a while, even though the stimulus is gone.

This time when they landed, Dean didn’t untangle from Cas. He stayed in the circle of his friend’s arms as he turned to stand face to face and then waited, hoping. Cas seemed to be doing the same. Both smiled as their faces closed the distance and Dean’s heart leapt in his chest as their lips touched together.

Cas’ body quivered against him, and Dean could feel a shudder as magnificent wings shot outward to full extension and braced there for a moment. Slowly, as the two kissed, they retracted back in and folded up behind the angel. Dean could feel warmth radiating between them as their tongues touched and tasted each other. Heat rolled over Dean in undulating waves as their mouths began to move, and he lost himself in their kiss like he’d never done with anyone before. It was everything he never knew a kiss could be… an exploration, an endearment, a promise, and a gift.


	6. It's Not Rocket Science

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to MoniJune for editing :)

Dean’s heart had swelled with affection for his angel as they’d kissed.  When they parted, he opened his eyes and watched Cas open his.

“Let’s go inside,” Dean muttered softly.

Cas nodded and allowed his arms to fall to his sides. Dean’s body immediately resented the loss of contact. He was cold now, where he’d been warm a moment ago. And he was uncertain. When just a breath ago he’d been so sure.

What was going to happen in his little motel room tonight? Would Cas come into his bed with him? If so, what would it be like? Would Cas be put off by Dean's desire to touch? Did he even have “equipment” down there? If so, would he know what to do with it?

Before the questions could eat away at the warm glow hovering in his heart from kissing Castiel, Dean stepped forward and walked to the door, digging out his wallet for the key card as he went. He could feel Cas behind him. Once the card was in the reader, the door clicked open for them.

When they’d entered, he had to chuckle. The image of his splendid angel, standing in a substandard hotel room on dingy beige carpet barefooted and wearing only a drape of soft cloth, was so comical.

Orienting himself to the space, Cas turned around to watch Dean toss his wallet on the bureau. As he turned, a wingtip trailed along the edge of the bed on his left. On his right, the other wing knocked over the floor lamp with a crash.

“Sorry, Dean,” the angel muttered as he tried to correct by turning back the other way. Again a wingtip caught the edge of the bed on one side. The other wing knocked over the tray that held the cheap plastic ice bucket, pitcher and cups.

Dean chuckled, and Cas looked flustered. Red crept to the angel’s cheeks, a ferocious blush that Dean found charming. He said nothing though, watching to see what Cas would do next, riveted to the spot.

Cas didn’t move, simply hunched there as if waiting for instructions.

“Make yourself comfortable, Cas,” Dean said as he gestured to the room.

“I don’t know that I can. Perhaps I will return to the roof.”

Dean felt a tug of sadness in his heart at the mere suggestion that Cas belonged anywhere but in this room. “C’mon, man,” he chided with a forced smile, “you’ve been here a minute and a half. Give it some time, okay?”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas said resignedly. He postured himself, clearly trying to pull his wings in, tucking them as close to his body as he could. He turned sideways to walk over to the little round table, which boasted two small chairs. Dean watched as the enigma of Castiel worked to settle himself into a chair, wings hanging over the back of it, brushing the drapes on one side and the bed on the other.

Cas was obviously uncomfortable in this environment, but Dean appreciated that his friend was giving it a chance. He made a mental note to spring for a much larger room tomorrow… and at a nicer hotel. He wished he’d brought his companion to the beautiful room he’d occupied at the bed and breakfast with its incredible view. It was silly that he’d paid so much to stay there – especially when he’d hardly slept in the room at all. He’d chosen a lower class of accommodation here, the kind of place he normally chose when on his own.

Technically he’d had a companion when he came here – but not one that would be staying in his room. When he’d arrived, his friend had been in the armor of a fire-breathing dragon. How was he to have known that such a short time later, he’d be leading an angel into this crummy room? He wished he could make Cas more comfortable.

Hunger pangs intruded on his thoughts then, and he decided to order some food for them. He stepped up behind Cas, intending to reach over his shoulder and grab a take-out menu from the table. But his eyes became distracted by Cas’ wings. Here, in the soft lamplight, the feathers looked different than they had under the silvery light of the moon.

Dean had been itching to touch them. But he’d held himself back. It felt obtrusive somehow… as though he should wait to be invited. He had noticed the lines as he’d watched Cas moving, and he knew where there were bones and where there were joints. He’d noticed the pattern of the feathers too. Some were quite large… their quills likely several feet long. These bigger feathers were dark and shiny and had a perfect shape to them – much like any bird feather he’d ever seen. There were rows and rows of them overlapping. There were smaller ones too… and around the bones that gave the wings their arching shape were soft, downy ones – like the kind that baby chicks have. These soft ones were a muted black. The largest were shiny. And the rest had an iridescent quality to them, catching light and reflecting it back in shades of shimmering blue.

Dean longed to touch, and his hand extended towards a wing without his permission. What stopped him was the image of his hand, hovering over the black backdrop of wing. His hand – over a black background, reaching towards something he strongly desired. Deja Vu. The image and action were strikingly reminiscent of the dream he’d been having in this room before he’d awakened to find Cas perched on the roof – no longer a dragon.

Dean exhaled, accepting reality. It really was him who was responsible for the changes in Cas. He didn’t know _how_ he was doing it. He’d never consciously wished for his friend to look different or take on another form. But clearly, he was willing these changes in Cas. He just wasn’t sure how.

He’d been standing there gaping for a moment, hand poised as if to touch the feathers but frozen like a statue.

“What is it, Dean?” Cas asked.

“Nothing important. I just wanna grab this,” he said as he leaned carefully around Cas’ wing and picked up the advertisement for a local pizza place from the table.

Cas turned his head as Dean leaned around him and their eyes met again. When Cas favored him with a smile, he returned it. But, having lost his nerve regarding wing touching, he retreated with the pamphlet and settled on the other side of the bed. Dean called in a pizza order and then stood to kick off his boots and settle in for the night.

He had a book in his bag that he’d started and would enjoy reading. There was also a TV on the bureau. But neither activity appealed to Dean and he only sat and stared at Cas. Long moments ticked by. His friend did not look comfy at all.

“Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“If you’re uncomfortable, we can go somewhere else. But I don’t want to stay here without you. I’ll go where you go, okay?” Even as he said it, Dean’s mind conjured him a picture of the two of them sitting on the roof together. All night. It was comical to him for some reason, and he grinned as he thought of it.

“I’m not uncomfortable, Dean. It’s just difficult to be in such a small space. These wings are much harder to control than my dragon wings were.”

“How so?” Dean asked him – curious.

“I have no tail in this new form. I’ve nothing to balance against their weight. No rudder for the ship, so to speak.”

Dean’s mind shuffled through images of Cas as an angel… his chest was heaving with exertion in so many. Perhaps those heavy wings were more work than Dean had suspected. They were beautiful, no doubt. Strong too. They suited Cas. But as Dean looked at him now, trying to get comfy in a chair, he realized that the wings were a difficulty for Cas. A burden.

“Would you be more comfortable on the bed?” There was nothing sexual behind his question. But even as he said it, it hung there sounding lewd to his own ears. Like a bad line from a ’70s era porno.

“Perhaps,” Cas agreed.

Dean watched the angel work so carefully to stand without his wings disturbing his environment – only to knock his chair over with his hip as he turned. Dean laughed again, lightheartedly and with nothing but affection for his friend. Cas smiled too, although his smile had the quality of one who wasn’t quite sure of the punchline of a joke. It was as if Cas found humor in this situation, but perhaps for a different reason. One that was lost on Dean.

There was only one way for Cas to be comfortable on the bed. He had to lie on his stomach. He couldn’t lie on his back, he’d crush his wings. He couldn’t sit on them, they’d snap. Sure he could spread them around himself as he’d done when sitting on the roof, but then he wouldn’t be able to relax because he wouldn’t be able to lean back against anything. 

Dean regretted the whole angel thing. It had been nice for a bit – a unique experience that’d he’d remember for life. But if he could wish those wings away, he’d do it. Cas was uncomfortable, and Dean didn’t like it.

“I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean whispered as he watched the angel lean forward and put his arms out to crawl across the bed.

“What are you sorry for, Dean?” Cas asked as he spread himself out on his belly.

“For the whole angel thing. It’s obviously uncomfortable for you. If I could make it go away, I would.”

“Changes seem to happen when you rest, Dean. Perhaps in a few hours I will wake a dragon again,” he said with a good natured smile.

“I hope not,” chuckled Dean. “How the fuck would we get you back through that tiny door?”

He felt the bed shaking under Cas’ laughter and laid his hand on the back of the angel’s head. His fingers curled into soft, thick hair and scritched at the scalp, hoping it felt nice. Dean guessed that it did. He’d always liked it when someone did that to him. Tension seemed to seep out of Cas’ body and as he relaxed, the wings settled down and fanned out around him. Bare feet were hanging over the edge a little as he spread diagonally across the bed.

Dean’s fingers caressed scalp as his mind wandered. He considered what form Cas would take tomorrow, and he wondered if there was a way to consciously force a change. Closing his eyes, he decided to try. Dean worked to picture it in his mind… the wings disappearing. He tried to exert his will somehow… by sheer power of thought. But it was an exercise in futility. His mind couldn’t settle on a form for Cas to change into. The image in mind morphed between man, angel, dragon, little boy and even the lean body of a lion for one brief moment. Dean opened his eyes and looked around the motel room, considering.

The thought was evil, but it was there. The thought of a woman. If he wished Cas into a woman, he wouldn’t have to worry about changing his sexual identity. He wouldn’t have to “come out” to his brother, his remaining family and his friends. Even as he thought it, he rejected the idea. Wishing Cas into any form on a conscious level seemed inherently wrong. His feelings for Cas surpassed any physical attributes anyway. Except maybe the eyes. They were his defining characteristic… so expressive of his inner self.

But Cas was so clearly a man. Throwing him into the body of a woman would be so foreign. It would almost be stranger than his embodiment as a dragon. Cas was male, and it suited him. Dean didn’t want or need to change it… didn’t care what hung between his legs. For Cas, he’d make the necessary changes in his life to couple with a man. It was such a small price to pay.

And, in his mind he could see a vivid picture of him and Cas together. He liked it, the way that picture looked. So much so that it brought a smile to his face just thinking of it.

A loud knocking at the door startled him. Dean swung a leg over the edge of the bed and got up, grabbing his wallet as he moved past it and answered the door. To the delivery driver, Dean was just a guy alone in a hotel room. The scent of decent pizza filled the room as he paid and closed the door, dropping the box on the table top.

“I’ll bring you a piece of this if you wanna try it,” said Dean, glancing over at the bed.

“No, thank you, Dean,” Cas said, turning his head to smile at Dean and folding his arms up under his chin to rest his head there.

Dean picked up the tipped chair and sat down in it. He opened the box and helped himself to a slice of pizza. As he started to eat, his mind flicked back to the angel on his bed. Poor Cas. Again and again, Dean’s presence was changing him. Every time he got used to one form, he was thrown into another. Dean couldn’t imagine it. How would he feel it he woke from slumber to find himself trying to walk on four legs instead of two? Or to feel a tail trailing behind him….

Dean considered all these things as he finished up two more slices of pizza. Then he told Cas he was sorry again.

“For what are you sorry now, Dean?” asked Cas with curious eyes.

“That you keep having to change because of me.”

Cas closed his eyes and rested his head on his arms again, “It has never bothered me to change, Dean. Yes, the angel wings are heavy and difficult to manage, but there have been pleasant surprises to being an angel, too. Don’t feel bad about what you cannot control.”

“What was a pleasant surprise about being an angel?” Dean asked, intrigued.

“Well, the flying was better,” Cas said softly, wearing a shy smile. “I’d much rather have you in my arms than riding my back.”

Dean smiled softly. “I liked it too, Cas.” Then, another thought seized him. “Hey, do you have a favorite? A form you’ve liked better than the others?”

“Do you?” asked Cas, leveling him with a heavy stare. Clearly the answer was important to Cas. Dean knew he needed to be honest.

“I like it all, Cas, even the little boy that played with me when I was young. But I think the personification I prefer most is just you as a regular man. Like you were in the cave, before you were a dragon.”

“Perhaps I will be that again someday,” said Cas, intently looking at Dean, “but I suspect not.”

“Why?” asked Dean, intrigued.

“Because I feel that you prefer me to have a more powerful form. The ability to fly and breath fire and things like that. A human would be so mundane in comparison.” Cas seemed almost sad when he said it.

“I have to admit, Cas. If I had wings… could fly… could breathe fire… I wouldn’t want to go back to being just a man. I don’t know if I could ask you to give that up for me… take a lesser form. It would be awful. Like taking an eagle and clipping its wings. I could never make a wish for that. I want it. I do. But I can’t wish for it. I can’t.”

“Dean. You told me in the cave that you’ve been with many partners, but have never known love.”

Dean nodded, remembering.

“Do you know that you have now found it?”

“With you?” Dean asked, leaning forward in his chair.

“Yes, Dean. The fact that you don’t want to make me lesser just for your own desire… that you care more for my needs than your own… that is the mark of love. Parents for children, lovers for each other. Yes, that is love, Dean. And I feel it for you as well. I always have.”

Dean nodded. There was truth in it. He had been feeling it; had even acknowledged it on some level. He’d simply been so caught up in the excitement of reuniting with Cas and experiencing his manifestations that he’d not had time alone to admit it to himself. But yes, he loved Castiel. Without a doubt.

Without further thought, he tossed the remainder of his last pizza slice back into the box and closed it up. He moved to the sink and brushed his teeth. Then he extinguished the lights, shucked off his shirt and pants and moved to the bed in his boxers. Cas looked up at him, and Dean watched the angel lift one wing, pulling it up in a graceful arch to make room for Dean next to him. The angel slid over a bit too – pulling his legs all the way onto the bed and arranging himself alongside Dean.

Dean settled onto the bed and felt the soft feathers tickle over him as the wing came back down to rest on his bare skin. It was a feeling he never could’ve imagined in his wildest dreams, and it was the invitation to touch that he’d been waiting for. The brush of feathers on his naked skin left goosebumps in its wake and Dean found his hand reaching out, finally letting his fingers press into the soft feathers. They were stunningly birdlike, stiff and strong but silky and smooth under his touch. He ran a fingertip along the downy baby feathers that covered the bony arch in the wing.

The only light in the room was from the parking lot – it seeped in around the edges of the heavy drapes. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he turned his head to look over at Cas. His hand came to rest on the wing joint that was currently resting over his bare chest. Cas was very still, observing him. Dean watched a smile spread slowly across his angel’s lips. Encouraged, he continued his petting in the dark.

Cas’ body inched closer in the quiet, heat pulsing between them. Dean’s mind flashed back to their kiss outside. His heart jumped wildly as he remembered the way Cas’ wings had flared out when their kiss had deepened. Now, lying here with a wing spread wide over his body and flexing under his gentle touch, Dean felt his breathing pick up in anticipation of the things they might do to each other. The awareness of how little clothing Cas was wearing wasn’t lost on him, and he could hear Cas’ breath slowly growing heavier in the quiet room.

Dean couldn’t take his eyes off his friend. He was used to it now – that contemplative look on Castiel’s face as he looked at Dean. He loved it too. Welcomed it. Stared back at this long-lost friend who was about to become his lover. He didn’t hide, didn’t back away or make this less than it was. He let Cas look and really see him, in much the same way that Cas had always let Dean see him, too.

Clearly, Dean’s initial worries about how this would go were unnecessary. He’d thought Cas might have reservations about being sexual with him, but clearly he didn’t. As Dean stroked feathers he was lost in Cas’ eyes and found himself inching closer to his angel. Cas snuggled closer to Dean too. Little by little they tucked in closer and soon Cas was able to simply tip his head a bit, without breaking eye contact, and press his adoring lips to the bare skin of Dean's shoulder. The look in those unwavering blue eyes was smoldering with want, and Dean felt his body coming to life under the weight of that stare.

He was swollen and heavy between his legs. Feathers ghosted over his skin and his jaw dropped open in shock as Cas slid his hand down Dean’s abdomen and trailed fingers over the cotton that had pulled tight over his engorged groin. A sweet moan slipped from Dean’s open mouth as he felt the heat of Cas’ hand cup him.

Cas was bold. More than Dean expected, and he loved it. He wanted the man to take what was his. And Dean was certainly his. He pushed himself up into Cas’ hand, beginning a rocking motion with his hips. He’d given no thought to what they’d actually do in this bed. But sex isn’t rocket science, and Dean knew they’d figure it out. He turned slowly towards Cas under the bow of his wing. He felt the angel shift and he took advantage, pressing in even closer. Cas slid up a bit too and pulled one of his legs up over Dean’s. There was hardness now pressing on his thigh as Cas came to rest against him. The feeling sent phantom fingers tickling up his spine. Dean found himself staring in awe at his companion, who was working his way on top with steady progress.

Looking into each other’s eyes, they began grinding slowly, each finding friction against the others thigh and falling into a rhythm together. Cas tipped his head forward so they were cheek to cheek and whispered Dean’s name in his ear. Dean whispered back to him, spreading his legs now and feeling his stomach drop in giddy anticipation as Castiel slid into place between them.

Dean groaned loudly as Cas’ hardness slid up alongside his. He’d never imagined how good it could feel to have another shaft skimming alongside his own. There was still material between them, bunched up, thick and warm. It was too much between them. 

Cas, as if reading Dean’s mind, lifted himself up and balanced on his knees to remove the light swath of material that was draped loosely over him. Dean sucked in a ragged breath, stunned, as watched the glory of Castiel unveiling his perfectly chiseled chest.

Dean couldn’t help that his eyes dropped lower, following a delicate trail of soft hair as it pulled his eyes towards the angel’s groin. He was perfectly proportioned – a feast for the eyes – and his cock stood tall and proud and leaking already. Dean’s heart raced wildly in his chest at seeing that Cas was every bit as excited as Dean for them to come together.

Had it only been a few days? It felt like years of waiting – half a lifetime. And thinking of it now, Dean realized it had been. Whether he’d allowed the thought to form consciously or not… he’d compared every lover he’d ever had to Cas. He’d done it without even understanding what he was doing. But he could see now that this was why all other lovers fell flat to him. This is why no one had ever really felt like a true companion. It was because he’d had this once. This presence in his life… attuned to him like no one else had ever been. Fiercely devoted and his perfect match in every conceivable way.

They’d played together, talked and laughed, shared dreams and nightmares. No one had ever understood Dean’s heart the way Cas did. And consequently, all other attempts at love did nothing but draw attention to the ache he felt at missing his friend, even though he couldn’t put a face or a name to what he’d been missing. 

Dean reached up then, reverently, and Cas reached out for him too. Their hands met in the middle between them and their fingers slotted together and locked firmly. Both men smiled, warm on the inside at the connection.

Behind the silhouette of Cas’ alabaster skin, wings unfurled. They were black as pitch and shimmering with iridescent blues and violets even in the minimal light. Slowly they stretched wide and filled the small room. Dean worked hard to swallow the lump in his throat at the sight of his naked angel; sleek and powerful and towering over him.

Cas tipped his head back and released a sigh. Dean had never seen anything more wondrous or thrilling in all his life. As Cas refocused his sights on the spellbound man beneath him, his wings dipped and rose behind his flawless form… hard lines of muscle and perfect pectorals rolling beneath taut skin as he pulled his wings back in and let them droop, resting behind him as he relaxed his posture.

Dean’s eyes roved lower, loving the cut of his friend’s hip bones. He’d always loved hip bones and he drank in the sight of Cas’ dick too as it bobbed and swayed between them while Cas leaned down to close the distance.

When Cas came down to rest on top of Dean, he bore his weight on his elbows which were braced on either side of Dean's rib cage. It was heaving as he worked to control his excitement. His mouth was desperate, needing something, which Cas seemed to sense. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Dean’s cheek and Dean couldn’t hold back anymore. He turned his head into Cas’ neck and began to suck a delicious mark there. 

Cas was chest to chest with him and groin to groin and Dean could feel the heat gathering in his belly as his mind began to flicker through the possibilities of things they could do to each other. He bucked his hips up into Cas and felt the man easily break Dean’s lip lock to begin sliding down his body. Cas was dragging his tongue down Dean's sternum as he went. The need to have something in his mouth was overwhelming. It watered for salty skin and his breath was growing increasingly ragged as Cas continued his downward exploration. Soon, Dean felt that hot mouth hovering over his dick. His cock felt so confined, pulled tight under cloth. Moisture was starting to soak through from his own leaking tip.

“Please,” Dean begged. “Please Cas.”

“Yes, Dean,” murmured his angel, now with a mouthful of cotton.

He could not keep silent. He begged Cas for more with his mouth, his eyes and his wantonly spread legs. The feeling of Cas’ fingers snaking into the hole in his boxers was overwhelming to him, and Dean looked down to watch as Cas tugged him out and wrapped his long fingers around his aching cock. He’d never seen anything so erotic in his life.

Cas leaned in and looked closely, obviously fascinated by Dean’s man-parts. Dean put hands to his own hips and began slowly pushing his boxers down. Cas sat back on his haunches and helped Dean work them off. Without a care for how it would look, Dean hiked his legs up in the air so Cas pluck them from his ankles. 

Their eyes met for a moment as his friend moved to lay back down on top of him again. It gave him a sense of completeness like he’d never known before to embrace this way. He felt his lover slide comfortably between his legs and their hot skin, stretched tight over hard shafts, drag seductively against one another. Dean bit his lip to hold back the curses and moans, but it wasn’t helping much.

“Don’t,” Cas said roughly in his ear. “Don’t hold it back. I’ve waited so long. Let me hear you.”

“Ugghh,” was all he could say as Cas arched his back to pull his dick back and then bowed it to slide it back up again. The angel was hungry and unrepentant in his lust, dominating in his need, and his movements brought a swirling pleasure to Dean’s stomach. Encouraged, he didn’t hold back his noises anymore. He let it go… let it all go. He moaned. He begged. He praised.

Cas repeated the motion, again and again, picking up speed and power with each pass. Dean could barely keep his eyes from slipping closed as he got lost in the sensations. But even behind dark lids, he could still see the image of Cas burned into his memory – proud and powerful and looking down on him. He could hear the rustle of wings and feel the occasional drag of a feather or wingtip on his shin or thigh as Cas moved on him.

And when he felt everything start to funnel lower and gather in his groin for release, he didn’t want it to happen. Didn’t want it to be over. “No…” he pleaded, “Not yet. Not yet,” but even as he said it he was already too late, and he found himself unable to hold back. He wrapped his arms around Cas’ shoulders and hung on with all his might.

“Dean,” was all Cas got to say before he tensed and spilled between them. He gripped Dean tightly and didn’t let go as they rode out the waves together; breathing in each other’s scents and tasting each other’s skin.

Coming with Cas – feeling himself spill out – Dean felt tears prickle at the corners of his eyes. The sensation had overtaken him completely, far more powerful than he ever would’ve expected. And now, finished, he was weaker than he’d ever been. He felt like a wet leaf draped over a rock – no shape of his own. He loosened his grip on Cas and began to run his fingers through the angel’s hair. It was sweaty, an unruly mop. Wings settled quietly, blanketing over them both. A few loose feathers were wafting down around them as Dean’s fingers traced lightly over Cas’ skin and through his damp hair.

“That,” Castiel said softly into Dean's neck, “was so much more than I thought it would be.”

Dean nodded, lost for words. Yes. It had been more. It had been everything Dean had been missing all this time.

“Wait…” said Dean, turning his face into the heat of Cas’ neck and planting a soft kiss there, “You’ve thought about it? Before now?”

“Of course I have,” said Cas, pulling up so he could look Dean in the eye. “I’ve been waiting for you a long time.”

Dean’s heart broke a little with the reminder of his abandonment. But Cas had nothing but love and forgiveness in his eyes, and for that, Dean promised himself he would be forever grateful.

He almost had to laugh. Clearly he didn’t know himself at all. All his life, it had never occurred to him that he was attracted to men. His denial had been thick, perhaps there were some issues there. But there was no denying the things he’d felt just now. He’d never had desire like this for a woman. Not once. He’d never been this fulfilled by sex with a woman either.

He loved Cas. It was clear. But he could see now that it was no coincidence that even as a youngster his choice of playmate and companion had been a boy. And when he’d met this same soul again on a dark beach, even decades later, his mind had given it a male form. Because that’s what Dean wanted to be with, whether he’d known it consciously or not. Cas was male because that’s exactly what Dean wanted him to be. Being with a man sexually wasn’t a sacrifice he was making because he loved Cas. It was his perfect match in every way. He loved the soul. He loved the body. He loved the man.

Lying with Cas, he also had to admit foolishness regarding his ever present wanderlust. He’d traveled so much in his life. He’d always thought he was searching for meaning… memories… purpose… answers to life’s questions. But no. He’d been searching for what he’d lost decades ago. This. Cas. He knew with certainty now that he’d found what he’d been searching for… because the urge to move again was gone. He could stay in this room forever as long as Cas was with him.

Cas pulled himself up off of Dean and crawled to his side. Dean was sticky and starting to itch so he reached down and took Cas’ discarded loincloth and used it to clean off their stomachs. The two rearranged themselves into a makeshift embrace with Cas still on his stomach and Dean on his side with one leg wrapped over the back of Cas’ thighs – curling up with his angel. The wings that blanketed them became the softest, lightest hug Dean had ever felt. He smiled in complete contentment of body and soul. They stared at each other unrepentantly until eyes began to grow heavy.

“I’ve been looking for you a long time, Cas. I just didn’t realize it,” Dean said softly.

“I’m glad you found me, Dean. I don’t know how to be anything but yours.”

It went quiet again as Dean let those words sink in. His eyes drifted closed, very much at peace.

“Dean?” Cas’ voice was rougher than usual, almost hoarse.

“Yeah Cas?” he answered, opening his eyes again.

“Do it. Make the selfish wish,” whispered Cas.

“What?”

“It’s not selfish if I want it too. And I do. I want to be a man, with you.”

“You can’t mean that,” Dean said softly.

“I do, Dean. I’d rather walk three steps by your side as your soul’s companion than ever fly again.”

Dean didn’t speak, had no answer, and he only hovered on the brink for a short moment before falling all the way to asleep.


	7. I'm Glad We Dressed Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks MoniJune, for all the extra help on this one!

Dean woke slowly, floating on the edges of a dream. It had been pleasurable; he was certain of it, but the specifics evaded him. The harder he tried to recapture it – the more it shrank away. As wakefulness crept up on him, he turned and stretched. Then as consciousness returned, memories of the previous night started rushing back to him. He blinked his eyes open, suddenly aware of the absence of angel wing that had been covering him all night as he slept.

He turned sharply in the bed to see if Cas was still here with him… and what form he would be in. A smile crept slowly across his face as his eyes roved the bed. Next to him lay the sleeping form of a man. Dean exhaled loudly… he hadn’t made a conscious wish for anything. But he was relieved to see that Cas was no longer forced to carry the heavy wings.  He was delighted that his friend was restored to the human form that Dean had kissed drunkenly by the fire in their cave. Unable to force himself to wait for Cas to wake, he shuffled through the tangle of blankets to get closer, sliding an arm over the man’s waist. He watched as eyelids fluttered and came open at his touch.

Cas turned towards him enthusiastically, and they were a tangle of arms and legs until they finally settled into a comfortable position. Dean, having just realized so many important things about himself and his life, still found himself surprised by his own actions and feelings. As he tipped his head in to kiss Cas and whisper a “good morning” to him, he was taken aback by how comfortable he was with the muscled arms and chest of a man lying with him so intimately; and how the feel of hairy legs tangling with his own sent a shiver of desire up his spine.

Honestly, now that he was in bed with a man for the first time ever, he had to ask himself how he’d never known. During his life he’d always preferred the company of men to women. But he thought all men did. That’s why married dudes need a “man cave” and a “poker night,” right? Because there’s only so much feminine company that a man can take before he needs to be back with his boys? That’s how Dean had always thought of things until now… every man needed a woman… much like they needed a car. He’d always assumed that when he found “the one” he’d have more of a desire to be with her than the others, and that’s when he’d fall in love and get married and have kids.

Perhaps, he thought, I should have spent a bit more time thinking about who I was and what I wanted – and a bit less time spinning the fantasies for my books and then living in them. His father had told him he needed to get his head in the game and focus on real life. He’d harped about that a lot. Now it would seem the man had been right. Dean hadn’t been living in the real world for a long damn time.

Cas’ fingers were mapping what they could reach of Dean’s body and as they moved lower, Dean noticed his body gearing up for sex. Without even thinking, he slid his hands lower on Cas’ body too. He smiled when he found that he wasn’t the only one with a heavy case of morning wood. They smiled into their kisses as they began stoking each other. The breathing was soon heavy between them, and their movements became more purposeful. Their hands and wrists collided mid stroke a few times as they became feverish, so Dean pushed Cas’ hand away from his dick and brought them together. Just like last night, it was a shot to the groin to feel another shaft touching his. He kicked down the covers so he could watch as his hands worked to circle them both. It was awkward positioning – being on their sides facing each other – his left arm was trapped in the bed. But he made use of it the best he could and with Cas’ hands covering his own, he managed to get a rhythm going. It felt so good to chase his pleasure with a partner whose body he knew and understood. It was just so easy. Their heavy breaths were loud in the quiet room as he spilled over their hands. Cas followed soon after – unable to hold back once Dean’s slick jizz covered their cocks.

Both men rested for a few moments with their foreheads together before Dean rolled out of bed.

“I’m getting a shower,” he said with a smile. “You can come if you want or take next turn.”

“Dean?” Cas asked from the bed, “What’s going to happen today?”

“Whatever we want,” Dean replied. He couldn’t stop smiling – and he didn’t want to. He watched a mirroring smile stretch across Cas’ face as he backed towards the bathroom. His smile lingered as he brushed his teeth and waited for the water to heat up in the shower. When he climbed in, his mind was on breakfast… a big one. He also wondered idly what to do with the day. Perhaps they should just head north along the coast? That’s what he’d have done if he hadn’t met Cas in the cave. Maybe he should just continue his vacation and bring Cas along with him. Dean’s smile came back again as he pictured them riding along the scenic byways of the Pacific coast… listening to music in his baby with the windows down and breeze blowing in.

Having awakened parts of him that had been previously undiscovered or dormant, Dean felt like a new man. He knew he should talk to Cas about the future and see what his friend expected. Clearly Cas was every bit as infatuated as he was. There was no doubt in his mind that they would stay together. He simply didn’t know the ins and outs of Cas’ reality. Was he somehow confined to this area? Did he have a predetermined amount of time here? Did he have dreams he wanted to follow besides being with Dean?

As if thinking of Cas had made him appear – he stepped into the shower with Dean.

“This is new,” he said.

“What? Being in the shower with me?”

“Being in… the shower,” Cas said, appearing to taste the word as if he’d never used it before. “What happens in here?”

“We get clean,” chuckled Dean. “You’ve never heard of a shower before now?”

“Yes, you used to mention showers when you were a boy. You hated them.”

“Yeah,” Dean smirked, “til I was about 11 and realized what a perfect place it was to jerk off.”

“Jerk… off…” mumbled Cas thoughtfully, as if trying to match the word with an action.

“Like we did just now in the bed, Cas,” Dean explained while making a hand motion to remind his friend.

“Ah… yes. That was pleasant. Very pleasant, I thought that was sex.”

“Well, I guess it is. Just about anything that gets people off together is sex as far as I’m concerned. If you’re getting off by yourself then it’s,” Dean paused, hating to use the clinical word. But he thought it best and continued, “masturbation. That’s what most people think of when you say jerking off. But since we did it together, I’d call it sex.”

“I think I understand,” Cas said, watching as Dean soaped up his hair.

“How is it,” asked Dean, “that you know so much about some things and so little about others?”

“Because you are the only one I’ve ever interacted with, Dean. All of my life experience has come from you… or the books we read… or the times we watched TV together… or overheard conversations that adults were having… you understand?”

“Yeah, I do,” said Dean – realizing for the first time that Cas had the life experience of a young and impressionable boy. He’d have to work on helping him grow. Books were Dean's first thought. Cas needed to read some books that would help him broaden his horizons. And he needed to start watching TV too… documentaries and educational stuff... news and current events… things that would help him understand the world better. He’d been sitting in a cave for far too long. It was time for Cas to start living.

With that thought in mind, Dean forced himself to ask the biggest question on his mind, “How long do I get to keep you Cas? How long will you stay with me?”

“Well,” said Cas, with the kind of unbridled honesty and enthusiasm that adults have lost completely, “Forever. Or for as long as you want me, Dean. When you don’t want me in your life anymore, you need only tell me good-bye, and I will leave this place and go to the next.”

“Do you know where the next place is?”

“No, Dean. Much like I don’t recall anything from my last place now that I’m here – I will not remember this place when I go there. But, my feelings from this place will be with me. I will not remember you or our time together… only how I felt during our time together. That’s how it’s always been so far.”

“How many different places have you been?”

“I’m not sure. If feels like many. I carry much love and joy in my heart, Dean.”

With that declaration, and the intense focus of Cas’ eyes on him, Dean had to pause from scrubbing his hair and lean in to kiss the man.

“So,” Dean whispered as he pulled away, “I have you… forever… all my life if I want?”

“Yes Dean. But again, I must ask you to remember to tell me good-bye should you wish to leave me so that I’m not waiting for you when you’ve no plans to return to me.”

This was the second time Cas had firmly made that request of Dean. It broke his heart a bit, as he considered the agony it would be to wait and pine for someone when there’s no way to move on of your own accord. No way to move on or get over it. “Never, Cas. I promise. I will NEVER leave you again. I swear it.”

The man’s slow smile reached his eyes and warmed his face.

“Here,” said Dean, holding out the tiny shampoo bottle and drizzling some into Cas’ palm, “wash your hair so we can get out.”

Once they were clean, the men toweled off and dug through Dean’s duffel to find some clothes for Cas. Dean’s things were a bit long and a bit tight on Cas, who was built a bit thicker.

“Since people can’t see you, we could probably just leave you naked,” Dean joked, “but then how would I ever get anything done?”

Cas laughed with him.

“It’s strange,” Dean continued, “that you manifested with clothes on when I met you on the beach as a man… but not this morning when you woke as a man.”

“Not really,” Cas said. “It would have been strange if I had been naked on the beach. Not so strange for me to be naked in your bed when we’d been naked together already, right? Remember Dean, what you think of me as… that’s what I am.”

“Intriguing,” he said as he threw together the last of his things and headed out of the hotel room.  Cas followed, and they climbed into Baby. “Can you stand those clothes long enough for us to get breakfast or should we hit the store and get you some clothes first?”

“You may eat first, Dean,” Cas said as he copied Dean’s movements to roll down his window and rest his arm on the warm metal. Dean popped in a cassette tape, and Credence poured from the speakers. Backing out of his parking space, Dean pulled his shades down from the visor and slid them on. They’d been in the car for only a few minutes when Dean noticed Cas grimacing in the passenger seat. He turned the music down.

“What’s wrong?”

“I… I don’t know. I have pain… right here,” said Cas – gesturing to his stomach, “and I keep having to swallow… my mouth is making too much saliva… something isn’t right, Dean,” Cas looked perplexed. Dean pulled the car to the side of the road and leaned across the seat. He pulled up the shirt. The jeans he’d given Cas were tight, but shouldn’t be causing pain. “Never mind, Dean. It seems to have passed.”

Dean looked at his friend skeptically. They pulled back onto the road, but he was troubled by Cas’ pain; it filled his mind with all kinds of unpleasant thoughts. Reaching his destination, he turned into a roadside diner and parked. The place was busy. A good sign that the food would be decent. As they walked through the door together, the aroma of hotcakes and sausage and fresh coffee filled Dean’s nostrils, bringing a smile to his face. He turned to smile at Cas but found the man cringing again.

“I need to sit,” Cas said when Dean looked at him.

“Sure, Cas.” Dean moved to the nearest booth and pressed in next to his friend, sitting on the same side of the table with him and leaning in to whisper, “I’m scared Cas. I don’t know what to do. It’s not like I can take you to the doctor. Please tell me what you need?”

“I don’t know, Dean,” Cas said. “It’s getting worse.”

“Have you ever felt this before?”

“No. Never.”

Just then, the rattle of ceramic cup and saucer sets pulled his attention to the waitress who had arrived. She had set cups on the table and was now pulling menus from under her arm. Dean turned away from her and back to Cas. He looked better now, sitting up and peering around Dean. The newly human Castiel was leaning to look at the waitress with big, curious eyes.

“Did the pain go away again?” Dean asked.

“There’s two…” whispered Cas.

“What?” Dean asked, confused.

“Two cups,” answered Cas in a whisper. “Two cups. Why?”

Just then, the waitress spoke, “Can I get you fellas something to drink? Or are you ready to order?”

“She can see me…,” Cas marveled. Dean, catching up, looked back and forth between his friend and the waitress. His jaw dropped as she spoke again.

“Yeah, sugar, I can see ya. Want some coffee?”

Cas didn’t move – eyes wide and mouth gaping.

Dean nodded vaguely, uncertain of what the fuck was going on. The waitress, who was the only one not currently having a stroke, leaned in and filled the two cups she’d set in front of them.

“You boys need a minute, or you ready to order?”

“Two specials,” he told her, just to get her to leave. He had no idea what the special was. Didn’t give a shit.

“It’s back,” said Cas, clenching his arms to his abdomen and leaning forward. Then, Dean heard it. The gurgle and rumble of an empty stomach. It had come from Cas.

“Here, try this,” Dean said, taking Cas’ coffee and hastily adding an exorbitant amount of cream and sugar.

Cas nodded, taking the cup by its handle.

“Do it slow,” cautioned Dean, not wanting his friend to burn his mouth, “like this.”

Dean showed Cas how by lifting his own cup and blowing on it a bit, then sipping very slowly. He watched Cas copy him and take a few small sips. The man settled the cup back onto its saucer and looked to Dean. His face slowly spread into a smile.

“I think that helped. I feel better already.” Then Cas let out a very boyish giggle and latched onto Dean with obvious excitement. “This is better than our drinks in the cave,” he squawked. “It’s warm going down!”

Dean smiled warmly as he watched Cas nursing his first-ever cup of coffee. The man was very childlike in his enthusiasm. It only got better. The special turned out to be Belgian Waffles and berries. They were served with eggs and hash browns. Dean had trouble even getting a few bites to his mouth as he watched the show… his friend moaning over the smell, taste and feel of his food. He gradually progressed from small and uncertain bites to practically inhaling the food.

“I can’t believe they can see me!” Cas marveled, adding, “I’m glad we dressed me!”

Dean bellowed laughter as he thought of it… of the reaction they would’ve gotten in the diner if Cas had walked in wearing nothing but his birthday suit. He grinned with a mouthful of waffle as he watched Cas eating. “Chew, Cas. Or you really will get a belly ache,” Dean instructed fondly.

When they left, Dean climbed into the driver’s seat and hit ignore when Lisa’s number showed up as an incoming call. It had been days without contact. He couldn’t even roll his eyes at her intrusiveness when he saw her number flash three more times that afternoon, because he knew she was probably going out of her mind with worry. As Cas napped silently in the passenger seat, Dean worked up what he’d say to her. He’d been planning on cutting her loose anyway, ready to sit her down and have “the talk” right after Christmas. But now, it couldn’t wait. This thing with Cas wasn’t just some random bar hookup. This was real and permanent, and it was a deeper betrayal to her. In the same way, she was a betrayal to Cas. Both deserved better. With that in mind, he called her back when they stopped for fuel.

While Cas went in and used the facilities, Dean leaned on the trunk and spoke to her while he filled up the tank. He kept it short and sweet, not bothering with his usual lines about not being ready to commit and (insert name here) deserving better. He simply told her the honest truth – that he’d met someone and fallen in love. He said he was sorry, and she took it far better than expected. The entire ordeal was over before the pump even shut off.

When Cas rejoined him in the car, he offered Dean one of the candy bars he’d purchased. His friend had been trying a new one at each stop as they drove, trying to taste them all. Cas had a lot to discover – and watching his friend explore the world was the most fun Dean could remember having in a long time. 

A few days later, as they were leaving a small filling station along the coast, Cas climbed into the car and gruffly asked, “Do you ever get tired of urinating? I’ll never get used to it.”

Dean laughed out loud in response. Cas was equally fun when he loved something or hated it. Every moment was memorable. And so progressed their first few weeks together.

More than anything else, Cas was thrilled with having people see him. He loved talking to them. But, he often came off sounding like Rain Man or Forest Gump. He simply had no ability to communicate effectively with anyone but Dean. He had no social graces, no idea what was appropriate… and was unfailingly honest the way kids are. It was comedy gold.

There was, for instance, the baby incident. They’d been waiting for a table at a place called Riverview when two moms walked up with babies in strollers. The mothers were chatting quietly when one of them had noticed Cas staring at the babies. She’d given him a warm smile and then returned to her conversation. Dean was smiling too – Cas was adorable when he was curious. Dean had watched him take a few steps and kneel down in front of a stroller. The child in it had locked eyes on Cas – smiling and pumping her legs with excitement at the attention.

“What’s her name?” Cas had asked.

Dean watched the mother answer “Emma” and then give Cas a nod when he asked if he could play with her. He’d picked up a rattle from the little bin of supplies and begun to interact with the child; all was well for a few minutes until the toddler in the other stroller became jealous and began to whine for attention too. The mother, paying little attention to anything but her conversation, began unbuckling the little boy to pull him out. She removed the little tiny hat from the toddler's head and pulled him into her lap where he continued to squirm in her arms and complain loudly.

“May I hold him?” Cas had asked.

It was at this question that both women finally put all their attention on their children. And Cas. The mother smiled and leaned forward to help Cas put his hands in the right places. As she handed off the tot, she took on the cooing voice of a proud mother and said, ‘Isn’t he just the cutest little thing in the world?”

“Definitely not,” said Cas without a trace of humor, “I’ve seen far cuter babies. His eyes are too far apart and his head is oversized, even for an infant.”

Dean’s jaw dropped to the floor. Cas wasn’t even done. Dean’s horror was complete when he watched Cas turn to the other mother and say, “Emma is much, much cuter.”

Suddenly, waiting even another moment for a table at Riverview was unimaginable. Dean didn’t bother trying to form an apology as he assisted in removing the child from Cas’ arms and handing him back to his mother. Red-faced, he dragged his friend out of the restaurant.

“Dean,” Cas asked as he was shoved out the door, “where do babies come from?”

At least he had the good graces not to laugh until they were back in the car.

“Dean,” prompted Cas as they pulled out of the parking lot, “why are we leaving? We didn’t eat yet.”

“I’m saving your ass from the lynch mob. Dammit Cas, you can NEVER tell a woman their baby isn’t cute, ok?”

“What should I tell her then?”

“Nothing, Cas. When you see an ugly baby you just zip it, okay? Just zip it.”

“She asked me a direct question, Dean. She asked if he was the cutest! Was I just to ignore her?”

“No, Cas,” Dean choked as he laughed his way to tears, “you frickin lie, okay?”

“Lie?”

“Yes, lie.”

As they’d driven north along the water, looking for a different place to eat, Dean had given Cas an impromptu lesson in common lies and the circumstances to use them. Cas reciting them in the passenger seat the way a child recites memory work was hilarious…

“Yes, he’s adorable, they’re so fun at this age…”

“No, you definitely don’t look fat in that outfit…”

“That was delicious. I’m just too full to eat anymore…”

The list went on and on. Having such a good laugh almost made it worth having to search out another place to eat.

Cas was uncertain of why he could be seen now – when he’d never been seen before. But there was no rule book for them to follow… no instruction manual. They just took each day as it came.

The two friends toured along the coast at a glacial pace, not doing much driving. Their days usually started at the crack of dawn with Cas exuberantly waking Dean – excited for what thrills the day might bring. They would linger in the bed for a short time deciding what they were going to do while they stroked each other’s stiff morning wood. Sometimes they got off in the bed, sometimes in the shower. Sometimes they stroked together, and sometimes they just watched each other as they touched themselves. Sometimes they’d press together and rock… rubbing their dicks together until they came on each other’s stomachs. It didn’t matter which. Waking with Cas was always a pleasure.

Once they were satisfied, they usually ate a big breakfast somewhere before venturing out to do whatever sightseeing they’d decided on. The men never really ate lunch, always caught up in whatever they’d chosen to do that day. Around dinner time, they’d find somewhere to eat. Dean tried to do a different type of restaurant each night so Cas could try all kinds of different foods. However, much like Dean, he seemed partial to giant burgers.

After dinner, they’d settle into a hotel room for the night. Mostly they’d either read or watch TV, and Dean would answer Cas’ relentless questions about the hows and whys of everything he was seeing on the screen. And inevitably, they always ended up moving into each other’s space – touching, exploring, tasting and just doing what felt good.

Cas wasn’t bashful, and he was a ferocious lover. Dean had never been worked over like Cas worked him over. The man had no boundaries or preconceived notions about sex. He touched and tasted everything. Even toes. There was no part of Dean that hadn’t been licked and kissed and stroked by Cas. Surprisingly, Dean found himself amenable to tasting Cas as well. He liked to suck on Cas – his cock, his balls, his hip bones, his nipples, his neck and even his fingers.

Every day was an adventure with Castiel. The world was new to him… and as Dean watched his friend explore it, he found himself renewed. Cas’ childlike enthusiasm was infectious, and Dean was having a blast.

Just wanting to get off the road during a torrential downpour one day, they’d wound up at a roadside dive on the 101. The place advertised beer, wings and pizza. It would do. Cas explored the jukebox, which he’d never seen before, and continued to make selections until Dean was out of singles.

They settled into a comfy booth and looked over the menu.

“Dean, buffalos do not have wings. Why would they lie about what animal the wings come from?”

Dean huffed another laugh, “I’m not sure Cas, but I think the wings get their name from the city that started making them. I think they first made ’em in Buffalo NY… that’s what I’ve always thought anyway… must’ve heard that somewhere.”

“And what bird do the wings really come from?”

“Chickens, Cas. They’re just chicken wings dipped in hot sauce.”

“Hot sauce?”

“Yeah. There’s tons of flavors but the most common, the original, is just hot. Spicy hot.”

“Is that pleasant?”

“Yeah. It gets ya right here,” Dean enthused as he gestured to the bolt of his jaw, “and ya dip ’em in dressing, too. The hot of the sauce and the cool of the dressing are good together. Like yin and yang,” he finished – referencing a conversation from the previous day.

“I’d like to try that,” Cas said as he laid down his menu.

“Okay, but you might want to try the mild ones for your first time… or barbeque.”

“I appreciate your concern, Dean, but I want to try the yin and yang. The hot and cool.”

“Your funeral,” he’d laughed.

They went on to discuss the plan for travel as they’d waited for their food to be delivered.

“We’re getting close to Canada. It’s time to change direction. You have any idea what you wanna see next?” Dean asked as he slid his phone across the table to Cas.

Cas looked at the map on the screen. “Why can’t we go to Canada?”

“It’s a different country, Cas. We need to stay in our own country because you don’t have a passport.”

“I see. Will I ever have a _passport_?” asked Cas, enunciating the word carefully.

“I don’t know,” Dean said thoughtfully. “I’m not even sure we can get you a driver’s license. You’re gonna have to give me some time on that one, buddy.”

Cas nodded and changed subjects easily, returning his attention to the map on Dean's phone. “What are my choices of where to go next?”

“Well, pretty much east or back south. There’s lots to see east of here in the Olympic area. Or we could head back south by a different route. Drive toward warmer weather.”

“How warm will it get?”

“Like summer.”

“Oh I’d like that,” Cas said wistfully, “Summer on the beach… like when you were a child. Let’s do that!”

Dean smiled at Cas’ nostalgia and gave the man a nod. “Pick a road for us to follow south then.”

Cas had focused intently on the map for several minutes before suggesting, “If we go east for a while, we can see some of Olympia before we head south on 5. That road borders national parks for hundreds of miles. We’d get to see Vancouver and Portland, and there’s a Wildlife Safari farther down… it looks like a good road.”

“Well it’s settled then,” Dean said as their food was placed in front of them. “We’ll head over to Olympia and then take the 5 south.”

Conversation came to a halt once Cas dug into his wings. Dean watched his friend, smiling as Cas told him he’d been right about the hot and cool combination. Cas was messy, and as he gradually finished his basket of wings… Dean noticed he was using more and more ranch on each bite. By the end, his friend was practically using the wings as a crude spoon to lift piles of ranch to his lips.

When they were back in the car, Dean exited the road they’d been on since he and Cas were reunited and took 107 east towards Olympia. Cas watched the scenery but didn’t talk much. Dean glanced over at him, watching his man stare quietly out his window at the rain and chew his bottom lip.

“Why so quiet?” he finally asked.

“I don’t know. Is it hot? Are you hot, Dean?”

“No.”

“I’m hot. I’m starting to sweat,” he said thoughtfully. “Can I put down my window even though it’s raining?”

“Just crack it.”

Cas had been slouching in his seat by the time they motored into Elma. As they drove through the small town, Cas piped up and said, “I think… I think I need to use the bathroom, Dean.”

Dean nodded, looking for a place to stop.

“Um… Dean?” Cas said in an anxious voice, “I have to go NOW.”

Glancing over, he saw the look of suffering on Cas’ face. His initial reaction was pity… then he remembered the wings Cas had inhaled with his lunch. “I bet you do,” he laughed.

Cas shrank farther down in the seat and cradled his tummy. Softly he said, “Dean… it’s… I’m sorry but it has to be soon.”

Dean put his hand reassuringly on his friend’s thigh and abandoned his search for a gas station. Instead he hung a quick left, swinging the Impala into the Parkhurst Hotel.

It was a sad little motor lodge. Squat clapboard buildings – weather worn and aged. The office was nothing but an old house on the property. Dean left the car running and ran inside, booking a room for the night and grabbing the keys impatiently. By the time he’d gotten back to the car, Cas was squirming on the seat and sweat covered his face.

“Hang in there buddy…,” Dean encouraged as he squealed tires around the circle drive and parked in front of their room.

Cas had grabbed the keys and run for the door like his hair was on fire. Dean chuckled as grabbed their bags from the back seat and walked through the door that had been left hanging open. He dropped the bags on a sorry excuse for a bed and crossed the tiny room to stand at the bathroom door. From inside he heard the sounds of a suffering man.

“Did ya make it?” he called through the door.

“Barely,” came Cas’ breathy reply.

“Yeah, that shit burns on the way in AND on the way out,” he laughed.

“This isn’t funny Dean!” Cas boomed through the door.

“Sure, it isn’t,” he placated with a smile on his face. “I’m sorry.”

Later, after Cas’ third round in the bathroom, he came out and curled up next to Dean, clearly exhausted.

“Next time you tell me to start with the mild…,” he lamented, “… I will listen.”

The two spent most of that night just watching TV. Dean giving Cas water bottles from the mini fridge and waiting for his stomach to stop exacting its revenge on the man. Cas was better the next morning, and they put the town of Elma in the rearview mirror.

They did indeed see a lot in the Olympia area before turning south again, and despite reassurances that they had plenty of time to see more, Cas was anxious to “get to summer.”

Then, something awesome happened just outside of Vancouver. Cas, with no prompting from Dean whatsoever, discovered road head. That was a good day.

Castiel was proving to be Dean’s match when it came to carnal appetite, and their sexual relationship was the most fulfilling Dean had ever had. Or even imagined. One night, as they lay tangled together and breathing heavily in post-coital bliss, Dean asked, “Hey Cas, the first night we were in bed together, when you were an angel, you told me that you’d thought about us having sex before.”

“Yes, Dean.”

“But you only knew about things from our time when I was a kid, right? So, how’d you know about sex?”

“You knew about it. You used to speak of it sometimes. You even… don’t you remember showing me your father’s magazine?”

“I do!” Dean howled, suddenly remembering it, “Goddammit… I was a little perv, wasn’t I?”

Cas tilted his head in curiosity. Dean didn’t even have to ask. He knew what Cas wasn’t understanding. “Perv is short for pervert, Cas. It’s someone who’s overly focused on sex.”

“I’m a perv then,” Cas grinned devilishly. “I think about it all the time.”

“Me too,” said Dean, still laughing, “Me too!” He pulled away from Cas and swung his legs over the side of the bed, reaching for his laptop. When he climbed back in with it, he stacked up the pillows behind them. Reclining back, he pulled Cas down with him, positioning the laptop so they could both see it. “I have an idea,” he said conspiratorially. “Let’s watch some porn.”

“Porn?”

“Yeah… videos of other people fucking. I’ve never had sex with a guy with before. I’m about as experienced in this as you are. It’s the blind leading the blind. Let’s watch some videos and see if there’s anything we want to try.”

“So you think there’s more to do besides our jacking off and blowjobs?” Cas asked – not even aware of how funny his sentence was.

“Yeah Cas. There’s more. I know guys fuck each other. But I don’t really know the mechanics of it. Seems like it might be painful… I’m not sure… but I think I’d like to see it up close a few times… maybe there’s a trick to it?”

“Okay, Dean, let’s watch porn,” Cas said as he snuggled in a little closer. “I’m glad we’re both pervs.”


	8. Is That Your Dick or Are You Pushing in a Watermelon?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MoniJune, you're awesome. Thanks for editing!

The next day found Dean and Cas wandering the aisles of Walgreens. The primary item on their list was lube. Both men had been enthralled watching porn together and were in agreement that taking things to the next level was a dire must. Even after they’d exhausted themselves, they’d still continued to watch.

After Cas finally nodded off, Dean began a Google search of helpful tips and hints for first-timers like themselves. He learned more than he’d meant to… easily distracted and veering off on tangents while visiting all kinds of kink-exploring sites. He’d fought sleep like a child and stayed up far too late as he greedily soaked up all the information he could. Some titillating sites were bookmarked to share with Cas later, and some he just enjoyed thinking about and left it at that.

Of all the information he’d taken in – the most significant lesson he’d learned was that there’s no such thing as too much lube the first time you “use the back door.” Now, as they wandered the drug store with plastic baskets, Dean pulled several different varieties from the shelves – not really knowing what was best. They stocked up on a few other things while they were there and then Dean did his best not to be self-conscious in the checkout line with his new gay lover and enough lube to keep a porn star stocked.

Needless to say, there was no sightseeing that day. A thick cloud of anticipation hung over the car as they drove the few blocks back to their hotel room. Dean glanced over at Cas and saw the man actually cup himself and press down. He immediately brought his hand to his own package and squeezed too… unable to keep his excitement in check.

What really thrilled him was how much Cas wanted to try it. Dean had been the recipient of consent for this activity only a few times in his life. It had once constituted a birthday present… and once been a Valentine’s event… but both occasions had been disappointing. It’s hard, after all, to enjoy an activity when your partner keeps asking you how much longer. Or in the case of the Valentine’s Day fiasco… having the girl tap out before he’d even sunk all the way in. That, to date, was his biggest bedroom disappointment. But this time was so much different. Cas wasn’t just tolerating this as a gift or a nicety… Cas wanted this. The man was literally aching for it on the other side of the car. So hot. Dean was overwhelmed with lust as he parked and grabbed their bags.

They ducked into that hotel room like teen boys on spring break and were stripping as they walked from the door to the bed. Both fell in together, each taking a bottle with them and ripping it open. There was no slow teasing and no build up. No one was tracing lines with their tongues or tickling soft places… no one was whispering sweet things. Neither could bear to draw it out.

Cas was naked first and as Dean tugged his uncooperative pant leg off, he was watching Cas rise up on all fours. “Fuck me, Dean.”

Dean dove forward and popped the lid on his little red bottle. Cas already had a purple bottle open and locked in his fist as he waited for Dean to mount him. Dean knew from last night’s “online education” that he couldn’t just hop on and push in. He needed to take the time to get his lover ready.

As he crawled up behind Cas, his mind toyed with the idea that it should probably be gross to spread a man’s ass and stick slippery fingers into it. But it wasn’t. It was far hotter than it had any right to be.

It wasn’t just the sight of Cas’ most private place that set Dean on fire. The man’s entire body was exquisite. The lines of his lean muscles under smooth, tan skin were flawless. Cas was so overcome with lust that he was arching his back and sticking his ass in the air – just begging for Dean's touch. They’d both seen that on the videos last night, but Cas looked far better in that position than any of the porn stars had. His cheeks were firm and milky white; between them was a swirl of dark hair outlining a soft, pink pucker.

Settling into his place behind Cas, Dean watched carefully as his middle finger pushed into the bud.  Cas’ ass was so greedy and desiring of him that he could actually feel his finger being pulled deeper. The constriction was a squeeze he could feel all the way down to his dick. Both of them groaned at the sensation.

 _Oh for fucks sake!_ – he thought. _How did I not know?_

In no time at all Cas was rocking back on his finger and begging for more. He panted out promises that Dean would love this and that they were never going to leave this room. All the while, Dean was throbbing between his legs, anxious to push in. He cursed and swore and told Cas how sexy he was.

“I need it, Dean, please put it in! Please!”

It was impossible to hold back with Cas going on like that. He squeezed more slick from the bottle and scooched forward to bring his swollen cock flush with Cas’ entrance. Before pushing in, he slid his shiny dick up and down between those perfect cheeks a few times, because it was sexy as hell to watch. Then, he wrapped his lube-slicked hand around himself. Dean didn’t think his dick had ever been this hard before. It rested heavily in his hand as if it were packed with lead. When he finally pushed in, it was hotter and tighter than he’d imagined. There was so much lube that it squirted out around his cock and made slurping noises as he worked it in slowly and began to thrust.

Cas was screaming yeses with his face buried in a pillow. It didn’t do much to lessen the noise, but secretly it thrilled Dean to imagine someone overhearing them. At first he was shaky when he pumped in and out, worried that he’d hurt his friend.  But Cas was vocal, begging him for more until he was really pounding. Those perfect cheeks reverberated with each impact, and it was a sight to behold.

Dean’s orgasm snuck up on him, and by the time he realized it was coming, there was no way to stop it or slow it down.  The moment is a freeze frame that finds him with his head thrown back and his mouth open, body a rigid line as he emptied himself into Cas.

His friend must’ve felt it and understood on some level – because he locked his frame as well. When the moment had passed, he worked to pull out slowly and then they both sank down together into the damp sheets. It was calm for a few minutes, but Cas wasn’t done. He was exuberant as he crawled down the bed, kicking sheets out of the way as he went. Dean’s mind was following Cas’ movements, even if he was far too blissed out to open his eyes and watch.

On his stomach, Dean rested his head on a pillow. He was just lying there recovering when he felt Cas push his legs apart and slide between them. Then there were cool fingers squirming around his crack and ghosting over his entrance. He smiled into the pillow. Cas’ cool fingers were a sweet contrast to everything else on his body, which was drastically overheated.

He wiggled his butt around playfully and giggled with Cas. Beneath him his softened member rested against the sheets, but he still turned and gave his man a frisky wink – an invitation to play. Eventually their easy laughter died down as Cas’ nimble fingers worked circles over his own tight bud. Dean liked this part more than he’d expected to as Cas alternated finger thrusts and flicks. It was strange to find himself pushing his ass into the air as he was stretched.

Cas was playing the “Let’s see how much noise we can get Dean to make” game. And Cas was a talented player. There were fingertips and tongue flicks and before long, Cas was dishing out little snaps of his palm to Dean's butt cheeks and teasing him about being naughty. As it turned out, spankings can be added to Dean’s growing list of kinks to explore.

Playtime, however, came to an abrupt end when a huge cock pressed up to Dean’s entrance and began to push. Dean buckled down, gripping fistfuls of bedding and reminding himself to try and relax. But relaxing is not possible when your lover is splitting you in half.

“Jeez fuck!” he cried out. “Is that your dick, or are you pushing in a watermelon?”

Cas chuckled a dark and dirty laugh that Dean had never heard before. He looked back over his shoulder to see his sexy man fully focused on him – eyes dark with lust and mouth slack as the pleasure of pushing inside washed over him.

Dean couldn’t look away – it was the most magnificent sight he’d ever seen. He sucked in a ragged breath as Cas came to rest on top of him. Dean, still flat on his stomach, felt the weight of his lover settle over his back. He exhaled and moaned out Cas’ name.

Suddenly, Dean wished he’d gotten up on all fours like Cas had, rather than allowing himself to be pinned into the mattress like this. But his partner reached forward and gathered Dean into a tight embrace. It was like being hugged from behind and it was perfect. Then, as Cas began to thrust into him, Dean grit his teeth against the pressure and the burn and clamped his hands down on the arms that held him. It didn’t take long for his body to loosen and accept what was happening.

Cas didn’t pound in like Dean had. He kept their bodies close together as he moved, rolling his hips forward smoothly as he sucked on Dean’s shoulder from behind. It didn’t take long for Dean’s body to start seeking more. He found himself pushing upward into Cas with what strength he had left.

Before long Cas was pulling at him, guiding Dean to get his knees under him. There was relief in coming up off the mattress a bit and as Cas began to move again, Dean realized his cock had sprung back to life. It was half hard as it swung beneath him, and he loved how it felt as it skimmed the sheets under him. In this position, Dean began to beg. He begged for more, for harder, for Cas to never stop.

The feeling of being filled like this was more thrilling than he’d ever imagined and sweat was rolling from his forehead as he worked to support the weight of the heavy man at his back. His hamstring muscles were on fire.

“C’mon Cas,” he growled, “make me cum again.”

Cas’ rhythm faltered as he fumbled around to get a hand on Dean. But when Dean felt Cas’ long fingers wrap around his dick – it was on again. They shuddered together and then recovered their rhythm. When Cas finally came, he made the most glorious noise Dean had ever heard and his hand fell away.

Dean grabbed his own cock and began working it urgently, desperate to come again. He groaned when he did, and again when Cas slid out of him. Both collapsed into a sweaty, sticky pile of satisfaction.

Eventually they staggered to the shower and then to the other bed in the room where they crawled between clean sheets. But that was the extent of their physical activity for the remainder of the day. Both men faded in and out of sleep for most of the normal waking hours. They talked a little, discussing the books Cas has been reading among other things. They kissed often and drifted around the bed – in and out of different entanglements – even watching TV intermittently. Both slept well that night and were refreshed in the morning, ready to move on.

Sadly, the route they’d had chosen turned out to be rather dull.  The drive-through safari that Cas had been looking forward to was the most eventful thing they encountered for quite some time. As they exited, Cas proclaimed it to have been one of the high points of the trip so far. Dean couldn’t share that opinion. He now had a small dent in driver’s side door from where an ostrich had kicked it.

Days were going by and the weather was getting warmer as Baby traveled south. They crossed the state line into California under a warm sun and made their way west so they could hug the coast. With the improved weather, the boys started rolling down their windows more. Road tripping with Cas, Dean found himself having some of the best days he’d ever had. In all his life, he’d never smiled so much as in these past weeks with Castiel.

As they neared the ocean, Cas became acquainted with the camera function on Dean’s cell phone and began taking far too many pictures. One evening they stopped for dinner at a gaudy tourist trap. While they were there, Dean snagged some more postcards and bought his friend several souvenirs. Then, feeling a bit rowdy, Dean drove them over to a roadside bar. At some point he’d promised Cas that he’d teach him to play pool. Since he was itching for a few beers in a smoky bar, this seemed as good a time as any.

They walked in side by side. But taking in the room and seeing it was a rather tuff crowd, Dean told his friend that it was best for them not to kiss or hold hands here. Cas nodded agreement and didn’t ask any questions – for once. They selected a booth in the back near one of the pool tables and ordered a pitcher. While sipping cold beers, they watched a game in progress and Dean explained the rules. 

When the table was free, Dean outfitted Cas with a cue and they played the first of three games. Cas was a quick study, but he couldn’t even get close to making the game challenging for Dean. When two hot young chicks ambled up, Dean engaged them politely – considering it harmless enough. What he hadn’t expected was Cas’ reaction. The man didn’t even notice that the blonde girl was hitting on him. What he did notice was that the brunette was resting her hand on Dean’s bicep.

Cas strode around the table with his chest puffed out and his chin belligerently high. “Step away from him,” he said icily. “He’s mine.”

She’d glanced at Dean with curious eyes. But apparently, she didn’t remove her hand fast enough. She came face to face with the wrath of Castiel.

“I said remove your hand from him,” he repeated firmly, pressing into her space. “He is mine, and you are too ugly for him anyway.”

Both women gaped at Cas – clearly unaccustomed to his bluntness (or to being turned down).

Cas didn’t hesitate. “Your chin is too pointed and your makeup is ugly. Your jeans are too tight to be flattering. You look hideous. He wouldn’t want you – so leave us alone.”

Dean didn’t want to laugh… really he didn’t. But he couldn’t help himself. He doubled over with it as the ladies turned on their heels and left in a firestorm of fury.

With the back of his hand, Dean wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. His stomach ached from laughing so hard. Draping an arm around Cas’ shoulder, he chastised his companion, “I taught you all kinds of lies, and this is what you say the first time you talk to a woman in a bar?”

“She wanted your sex, Dean. It was obvious. Until you leave me – you are mine. She can’t have you.”

To avoid further drama, Dean cut the game short and began herding Cas towards the door.

“Fuck, Cas, why don’t you just piss a circle around me like a damn dog?” he laughed as he pushed through the exit with his man.

They headed for the car, and Dean was still grinning when he slid into the driver’s seat. As they took to the highway he glanced over at Cas in the dark. The man was stoic. Suddenly, Dean felt the need to reassure.

“Cas, you don’t have to chase off other lovers. I’m yours. I will never want to be with anyone but you. I would have sent her away. I was just gonna be nicer about it than you were.”

Cas nodded. Dean rested a hand on his thigh and said, “I mean it, Cas. I’m yours. You don’t have to worry when other people…” he used Cas’ words – to be sure the man would understand, “… when other people ‘want my sex.’ It doesn’t matter, because I don’t want them. Okay?”

“Okay,” Cas nodded. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to finish pool. I was having fun.”

“Me too, Cas.”

While he drove the darkened highway, Dean pulled Cas closer, resting his arm across the back of the bench seat and letting his hand sit comfortably on his man’s shoulder. They made love that night in a very comfortable bed at Hampton Inn. He promised Cas a waffle for breakfast in the morning – knowing they served them in the lobby.

Dean slept well that night and awakened refreshed. He reached out, wanting to pull Cas close again, but his hand found only bedding. The weight of a body was resting on his leg, so he sat up to look around, wondering what odd position Cas had slept in. He was stunned by what he saw.

On top of the covers, curled up against Dean’s leg, was a dog. He blinked. He pinched himself. It had to be a dream. But somehow it wasn’t. The sleeping animal was beautiful. Long fluffy fur in shades ranging from black to charcoal to pristine white. He’d seen this kind of dog before. It was a Husky. It looked a lot like a wolf only fluffier.

As it stirred and woke, it yawned an impressive mouthful of teeth. Fangs. And when its eyes opened, clear and bright and the perfect shade of deep blue, Dean said, “Cas?”

The dog opened its mouth… but all that came out was a whine.

“Holy shit,” Dean stammered as he took in the huge pointy ears… the dark wet nose… the… the tail. “God dammit, Cas! I don’t know how this happened! I didn’t wish this… I didn’t, I promise…”

Dean was fumbling. Could Cas even understand him in this form? The eyes showed intelligence and surprise. Cas opened his mouth again, but could only whine. The tail thumped once. Paws twitched and then the dog launched himself onto all fours.

Dean could only watch as Cas took in his new form. When their eyes met next, there was much discontent showing in Cas. He looked across the rumpled bed sheets at Dean and growled low in his throat.

Dean didn’t speak – but his eyes followed Cas as he leapt agilely from the bed and began to pace the length of the room. Eventually, the shock started wearing off and Dean swung his legs around to put his feet on the floor. Cas walked over and laid his head in Dean's lap. Another soft whine escaped him.

Feeling pity, Dean reached out and petted him softly. The head tipped toward him, and he found himself smiling as he scratched behind the ears. The tail wagged, and he felt Cas lean into him.

“It’s okay, buddy,” Dean placated. “You can still have waffles for breakfast.”

Without further discussion, Dean tugged on yesterday’s clothes and headed downstairs to the lobby. He liked this hotel chain. They had “make your own waffles” every morning in every location. Hungry, he made several and stacked them up on two plates, covering them with butter and syrup before heading back to his room.

When he returned, Dean stood uncertain for a moment – looking at Cas. His tail was wagging, and he was clearly excited to be smelling the waffles. But Dean wasn’t sure where to put down the plates. The floor seemed the natural place – but he didn’t want to be insulting. So he put the plates both down on the table.

Cas’ furry head tipped to the side as he considered Dean. Then, he looked over at the table and made a smooth leap up into the chair. The furry canine turned around in it once before sitting down. It was impossible not to stare as Cas leaned in and began eating his waffles. It was comical to say the least. The plate began sliding across the table as Cas tried unsuccessfully to eat balanced on his chair.

“Must be a bitch to wake up without hands,” Dean chuckled as he held Cas’ plate still for his furry friend. Cas gave him a look of obvious disdain, but continued eating. When he’d finished, he looked to Dean’s plate and whined.

“Alright, buddy,” he said as he moved his own waffles across the table. “It’s the least I can do.”

They went to the beach that day. It was warm and sunny. Dean had Googled the area and found one small section that was open for people with dogs, and that was where they went.

The smile never faded from Dean’s lips as they drove down the highway – Cas’ head hanging out the window the entire ride.

When they arrived, they headed for the water. Cas’ tongue lolled out of his mouth as he looked down the beach with inquisitive eyes. Others were here, mostly swimming or walking with their dogs. Some were playing fetch. Dean followed Cas to the water and watched him splash into the waves. He kicked off his boots and rolled up his jeans so he could step into the frothing water, too. They frolicked away most of the afternoon. Cas’ eyes, always so expressive, showed genuine delight as they played together.

At one point, Cas found an abandoned tennis ball. It was dirty and water logged, but he brought it to Dean and whined for play. Dean tossed it, and Cas bounded off after it, returning with the soggy ball between his teeth. He presented it to Dean and waited, tail wagging, for Dean to throw it again. That one waterlogged ball held Cas’ attention for hours, and the same game of fetch was still going on when the sun started to set.

Hungry, Dean looked down at Cas and said, “Can we go?”

Cas sat down on his haunches and dropped the raggedy tennis ball. He gave a firm nod and then trailed behind Dean to the Impala. Unable to return to the Hampton Inn with his “dog” in tow, Dean found a cheap motel along the highway. Once he’d visited the office (alone) to get the key, he parked Baby in front of their door. Cas lagged along behind Dean as he walked up to the door and unlocked it. Once inside, Cas leapt to the bed where he turned in a tight circle before lying down.

Dean smiled as he joined Cas, picking up the remote. They curled up together on the bed, and Cas napped softly while Dean ordered a pizza. When it arrived and the meaty aroma filled the room, Cas woke again and whined. Dean just dropped the box on the bed between them and pulled out a piece for himself. As he ate it, he watched his furry friend inhale the rest of it right from the box.

He was just drifting off to sleep when Cas let out a “woof.” It was the first time he’d barked all day. Dean watched him hop down from the bed, go to the door and turn a circle there.

“Oh…” Dean said, understanding, “just a sec man.”

He pulled his boots on over bare feet and opened the door for Cas. Then he stood in the parking lot in his flannel sleep pants and boots as Cas trotted around the lot once.

“What?” Dean said when the pup padded up to him and stood staring defiantly. Then he laughed out loud as Cas lifted a leg and pissed on Baby’s rear tire, never breaking eye contact. The look in the dog’s crystalline blue eyes was quite belligerent. He was daring Dean to complain.

The next morning, Dean woke early and sat bolt upright in bed, wanting to see if Cas was still a dog. Then he sank back down gratefully as he took in the form of his man sleeping soundly next to him. He shuffled forward in the shitty hotel bed and pressed his body against Cas from behind, wrapping his arm around the man’s waist.

Cas was grouchy as he woke. “That was unpleasant, Dean.”

Dean chuckled softly, pressing his lips to Cas’ shoulder as he remembered Cas’ antics at the at the bar. His mind flitted back to him telling Cas, “why don’t you just piss a circle around me?”

“Hey,” Dean laughed, “you’re the one who acted like a damn dog… fucking pack alpha. This one’s on you buddy.”


	9. Don't Pussyfoot Around

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to MoniJune for pulling double duty when there were more important things that needed doing. :)

 

Dean crept along the coast of southern California for several weeks, mostly sightseeing and beachcombing with Cas. Sometimes they’d go out at night and have some fun, but mostly they spent their evenings in whatever hotel they’d checked into. Cas was still ingesting culture via television, movies and books. But, as time went by, his questions became less frequent and more specific. Sometimes they’d hunker down and watch something together – like a movie night. But for the last week or two, Dean had found himself at his laptop almost every night. He’d often sit with his elbow touching Cas’ and type up his musings… sometimes even little scenes and funny things that crossed his mind… it was really just freewriting. This wasn’t part of his normal writing “process,” and it was strange for him to be using his laptop for anything but porn prior to the full concept of a story latching hold in his mind. But he was enjoying it, finding himself reaching for his laptop often.

Today they’d visited Crystal Cove. It had been peaceful and largely devoid of people. When they’d arrived, they’d donned snorkel gear awkwardly in the waist deep water and then swam out. They spent the day exploring, coming in to rest on the beach periodically before plunging back in. There were tide pools too – and they’d spent a long time peering into these natural aquariums. Cas had been fixated on a fist-sized octopus that was busily moving about. It even used its tentacles like legs for a short time – appearing to walk along the crusty bottom as it moved a rock.

“It’s so cute,” Cas laughed, enthralled, “I just want to shove it in my pocket and take it with me!”

When they’d left, tired and sunburned, the two had headed straight back to the motel and ordered delivery for dinner. After they’d eaten their fill, Cas spread out on the bed and immersed himself in his latest book. Dean pulled out his laptop. Cas had been adorable watching the baby octopus at the tide pool, and Dean couldn’t help but write about it. However, as he wrote, Cas became a wide-eyed young boy, and the octopus morphed from grey to bright purple.

There was no schedule or route to the trip anymore. Generally, they were heading south but would often arc back north to visit something they’d missed before or wanted to see again. They took each day as it came and did as they pleased. Sometimes they stayed in little dive motels and sometimes they splurged on top-dollar suites. Sometimes they’d choose extravagant restaurants while other times they’d grab whatever smelled good from a food truck or street vendor. Dean had never enjoyed a vacation so much.

As he was falling asleep one night, he remembered how he’d felt at the beginning of this trip. He’d been so unhappy – full of aching uncertainty about life. He hadn’t really known himself at all. He’d known he was searching for something but hadn’t known what.

He could see very clearly now that it was Cas. Cas was what he’d been looking for, and not just on this trip either, but for all his adult life. Finding Castiel had been like finding a part of himself that had been missing. Cas had been the key that opened the elusive and mysterious “door of Dean.” Things he didn’t understand about himself had become clear very quickly once he’d been reunited with his childhood playmate. Now, finally, Dean knows himself. He is a writer. He loves to travel. He has a home in Kansas and a family that he loves very much. He has a soulmate who makes his life complete. He is gay. He is happy.

Dean. Is. Happy.

He even thinks he may understand why Cas is able to be seen by other people now, when he never was before. Perhaps it’s because he loves Cas so much. It’s not the kind of self-serving love that previously motivated his mind to conjure a creature who is only for him. He loves Cas enough to want what’s best for his companion. And Cas wants to be seen… wants to be part of the world… and Dean wants that for him. And so that’s the way it is.

Vacation has been good to him so far. He’d found Cas, he’d discovered himself and he’d had a chance to relax and enjoy life a little. Now, after a few weeks of California fun and sun? He has a tan. His stomach has trimmed down and firmed up from all the hiking and swimming they’ve been doing. It doesn’t hurt that the area they’re visiting is plagued with healthy food that’s every bit as delicious as the greasy fare that Dean normally favors. He’s not only happy, he’s feeling healthier than he has in years.

The passage of time has become inconsequential – especially here in the land of perpetual summer. But then one day it happened. They had parked in a public lot and were walking down the boardwalk. As they passed a souvenir shop, Dean saw Christmas decorations in the window. He had to stop walking and pull out his phone when it occurred to him that he didn’t even know what day it was.

“What?” Cas asked when Dean stopped walking.

“Just checkin’ something,” Dean said as he swiped the screen to life and saw that it was November 14th.  “Thanksgiving is coming up. We’re going to have to start heading home soon.”

“Home to Kansas?” Cas asked him.

“Yep.”

“How long will it take to get there?”

“Days.”

“Are you alright, Dean?”

“Yeah,” he said as he started walking again, “Yeah. I just… kinda forgot what day it was… been having so much fun with you that I forgot about real life for minute there.”

“Dean,” Cas replied with a smile, “this _is_ real life.”

Dean nodded. Truer words were never said. This was real life. And it was so good that it almost felt like a dream; like it couldn’t possibly be real – because it was too good to be true.

They lingered two more days on the coast before Dean pointed the Impala east. It was impossible to pass through Vegas without staying a few days. But they did surprisingly little gambling. Cas became bored quickly with slots and cards but seemed to enjoy Roulette. The two walked up and down the main drag at night – taking in all the grand fountains and unique themed buildings. They ate in some cool restaurants, and they went to Cirque De Soleil.

On the way back across the country, they also spent a little time in Denver. They rented a rustic cabin on a steep bluff where the view was incredible and there was a hot tub on the deck. With no one around, they were free to strut about naked – both inside and out. It was fun, especially at night, to rush naked out into the cold and then leap into the hot tub. They’d sit in there until they were overheated and then make a wet run for the door through the icy wind. They were always laughing and shouting as they piled back inside. The hot tub became both a morning and an evening ritual during their stay.

As they logged hours driving home, they used the time to discuss what they’d be telling people about Cas when they got back to Kansas. Both agreed that it was better to simply construct a cover story than try to explain the reality of what Cas was.

After much discussion, they agreed to say that Cas was a writer too and that they’d met in a coffee shop while Dean was on vacation.  It was a nice and simple cover story. If they’d tried to make up any kind of actual career for Cas – he’d have to have knowledge of the field and soon begin working in it or risk being exposed as a liar. That problem was unlikely to present itself with Cas posing as a writer. If anyone asked about his writing he’d just tell them that he was, as of now, unpublished.

People may wonder what he’d been doing for money if his books weren’t published, but no one that Dean knew would be rude enough to ask. In the event that someone did ask, they planned to simply say that Cas had an inheritance he’d been living on for quite some time.

Dean didn’t like having to lie. But he also didn’t like the idea of being committed to an institution if he started spouting off about how Cas was the embodiment of his imaginary friend from childhood… a magical creature who could be a man one day and a dragon the next.

When majestic scenery began to give way to endless corn and bean fields, Dean looked over at Cas and said, “Home Sweet Home.” Cas parroted that same phrase back to him when Dean opened the actual front door of his house and stepped aside for Cas to enter. Something incredible happened when they walked into Dean’s house together. Cas became real to Dean in a new way. He was no longer a dreamlike figure that may vanish at any time. He was as solid as the oak floors underfoot. As real as any other person and with him here… in what was to be their home.

“Well,” Dean said as he moved past Cas to take the lead, “let me show you around the house.”

“Show me the bedroom Dean,” Cas said in a voice like gravel.

Dean’s answering smile spread slowly across his face and without another word, two duffel bags dropped to the floor in the front room – abandoned. The men glopped together and began working to pull each other’s clothes off as they struggled down the hall, bumping back and forth between the narrow walls as they focused more on buttons and zippers than on where their feet were going. Dean had his mouth latched to Cas’ neck as he pushed through the door of his bedroom and before they even got to the bed, Cas had Deans cock fisted tightly in his grip.

Dean watched from above as Cas dropped to his knees on the carpet and sucked him down passionately.

“Damn, Cas,” Dean husked as he watched the man bobbing on him zealously.

Cas’ answer was garbled by the thick cock on his tongue, and Dean cursed again as the man wrapped his arms tightly around his thighs and forced Dean’s dick farther into his mouth.

When his tip struck the back of Cas’ throat, he couldn’t help but knot his fingers into Cas’ soft hair and tug him forward even more. Cas responded by moaning on him obscenely.

“Ya wanna fuck me tonight, Cas?”

Cas moaned again, and then swallowed. Dean felt his dick pulled by suction towards the back of Cas’ throat where it bumped again. The man gagged a little but didn’t relent. He was even more aggressive then, grasping Dean’s pants where they were bunched up at mid-thigh and roughly rucking them down lower.

As a finger dipped in from behind to stroke his perineum, Dean felt his knees getting weak and began to shuffle towards the bed… it wasn’t far. He pulled Cas up off the floor and onto the bed with him. The comforter was cool beneath them and Dean spread his legs for Cas – a blatant invitation.

“Why’d we leave the bags?” complained Cas – knowing that’s where the lube was.

“Cause you knew I’d like watching your bare ass as you walked away to go get what we need.”

Cas scuttled backwards off the bed and turned to leave the bedroom, pulling his pants up as he moved towards the door.

“Don’t you dare cover up that fine ass,” Dean growled as he watched his lover leave him.

Then, when said cheeks had disappeared around the corner, he set to work tugging off the remainder of his clothes. He spread himself out on the bed, knees under himself and lined up perfectly so that Cas would have a striking view of him when he returned.

Dean sucked his finger and then began to breach himself – prepping for Cas while putting on one hell of a show. When his man returned, he cursed aloud. Dean smiled widely and said, “Want you Cas – don’t make me wait.”

Cas didn’t tease – just gave Dean what he wanted. A pounding. With a few well-timed smacks to his freckled ass as he pushed it up in the air to take his punishment and beg for more.

“Fuck yeah, Cas!” he screamed out, “Fuck yeah!” His hand was holding his own heavy dick, not stroking but pinching it tightly and trying to keep from coming as Cas jackhammered away at him from behind.

The man’s firm hands gripped his hips tightly and jerked him back up when he sagged under the weight; and when Dean felt a heavy hand on his head he gritted his teeth – knowing what was coming. Cas curled his fingers into Dean's hair, right at the front near his hairline in the only place where his hair was long enough to grip. Then he pulled Dean’s head back aggressively, forcing his back to arch further and driving Cas’ cock measurably deeper.

Dean was screaming Cas’ name when he came. He flopped forward on the bed and waited. When Cas didn’t drop down next to him, he turned a bit to look over his shoulder. Cas was a sight. His eyes were locked on Dean’s ass beneath him as his strong arm jerked harshly on his angry red and swollen cock. Dean was still watching when Cas splattered his ass with hot jizz and reached forward to spread it around with his hand.

Dean’s wilted dick twitched at the feel of having his lovers spend running down his cheeks – dripping onto the bedding and sliding into his crack. He felt like he’d been rode hard and put away wet. It was bliss.

Over the next few days as they settled in, they managed to “break in” every room of the house – even the garage. It was the day before Thanksgiving that found Dean bent over the hood of his precious Baby, watching his own reflection in her newly waxed finish, as his mouth gaped open and curse words slipped out. They’d been at it for a while now, fingerprints smudging up his Baby. But with his dick this hard, Dean couldn’t bring himself to care about the finish.

He barked rough encouragements to Cas who, in turn, kicked his feet farther apart to sink in deeper and bury himself fully in Dean with a ferociousness not yet matched. The entire car was rocking from the thrusts, and Dean's feet kept sliding out from under him on the dust-coated floor. He scrambled to keep his footing, finally bracing his left foot against the front tire. His dick was heavy, swinging forward and back between his legs as Cas rocked into him relentlessly.

When he was shoved forward another inch, his cock began to bump the cool metal each time it swung forward. A gentle thump, thump, thump to the rhythm that Baby was also rocking to. With each connection to the cold metal, there was a zing that shot up his length and into his stomach.

When he could bear no more waiting – he called out for Cas and then reached down and tugged himself firmly – once, twice, three times. A hot shot of translucent spunk plastered onto the side of his newly polished car. But as Dean’s arms relaxed and he tipped forward onto the hood, overcome with sweet exhaustion, he simply couldn’t bring himself to care about the mess. Cas leaned in over him and rested against his sweaty back, both of their chests heaving. Dean smiled in satisfaction as Cas pressed the gentlest of kisses to the back of his neck.

When they found the strength to hobble back into the house, the smell of pumpkin pie filled Dean’s nostrils, and his stomach gave a rumble. Tomorrow, their home would be full of company. Sam and Jess would be here for Thanksgiving Dinner, as would Uncle Bobby and Aunt Ellen with their daughter Jo.

Dean checked the pies before heading to the shower. He and Cas took them out shortly after… three pies in total. Dean checked the turkey in the fridge to be sure it was thawed. Once he was certain that things were as ready as they should be, he flicked off the kitchen light and headed for bed.

They slept well that night, exhausted from their antics in the garage. When they woke, Dean turned on the parade for Cas as they lingered in the bed. He got up once to put the turkey in the oven and then came back to lounge with his man a bit longer before both finally moved to the shower.

Sam and Jess were the first to arrive and as Dean introduced them to Cas, Bobby and Ellen were pushing through the door with Jo behind them. The group was loud and boisterous as always, and they did a great job of making Cas feel like one of the family. Watching them easily embrace Cas, and thus his new lifestyle, was both liberating and reassuring. When they sat around the table and each told the group something they were thankful for, Dean said, “Family.”

Cas said, “Dean finding me.”

When the meal was over, they cleared the table together and then settled in the living room. Dean built a fire and then cozied up next to Cas. The family asked about Dean’s vacation, so he and Cas took turns giving them a rundown of their favorite stops. The group also talked about Jo’s first semester at college and Bobby’s need to hire another body for the shop.

Then, when things quieted and there was only the sound of a crackling fire, Sam stood up. He pivoted and fell to one knee at Jess’ feet and proposed to her. Right there.

Resounding cheers went up from the family when she said yes, and everyone leapt up to exchange hugs and congratulations and to look closely at the ring. Sam and Jess were all smiles, glowing under the attention of the family, while Dean and Cas moved about the room distributing glasses and pouring drinks to toast the couple.

After pie, everyone moved to the kitchen to help clean up. Bobby put a firm hand to Dean’s shoulder and steered him away from the group and towards the liquor cabinet. Bobby had a determined gaze as he worked to pour them each a stiff drink and clinked their glasses together. Both tipped back their glasses and pursed their mouths while the burn worked its way down.

“Somethin’ ain't sitting well with me, boy,” Bobby barked roughly. “You best to fill in the blanks, before I get too curious and start sniffin’ around.”

“Bobby…”

“Dean, your folks may be gone, but that don’t mean there’s no one to answer to.”

Dean looked down at the tumbler in his hand, swirling the amber liquid nervously as he wondered what Bobby had picked up on. The vague descriptors that Dean had used regarding Cas had obviously been noticed, and he wondered which gaping hole Bobby was seeking further information to fill. As he stood shoulder to shoulder with the closest thing he still had to a parent, Dean was at a loss for what to say.

“Son, you’re different now. And I don’t mean just the obvious,” his uncle clarified, rubbing the back of his neck as he referred to Dean’s newly exposed sexual orientation. “I mean, you’re completely different. Mostly good different. But different. And for a man who’s so happy and settled… you’re awfully evasive about this… about… _him_.”

Dean looked down at his feet, waiting for a specific question.

“What do I need to know, Dean?”

Dean took a deep breath. “Honestly, the less you know the better.”

“That’s not helpful, son.”

“He’s…” Dean searched for the words. This wasn’t his strong suit. Talking. Communicating. Not his cup of tea. Important things, heavy things, feelings, they all tended to come out better on paper.

“He’s just…” Dean took a slow drink, stalling, “he’s special. Different. I don’t know what to say.”

“Tell me what I need to know. Don’t pussyfoot around.”

“He’s… off the grid.” Dean said it as a statement but was sad to hear his voice betray him and phrase it as a question.

“Is he dangerous?” Bobby asked as he turned to look out the window and sip his drink.

“No.”

“Is anyone dangerous coming for him?”

“No.”

“Well okay then,” he said, obviously willing to accept those answers in lieu of more detailed ones. “Is there anything you boys need that you don’t have?”

Dean turned now too, eyes roving the brown grasses and leafless skeleton trees of winter that rested weary under a weighty grey sky. He considered the question for a long time before his mind settled on the one piece of this puzzle that seemed the most pressing; the one area where his mind was unable to conceive of a way to move forward and bridge the gap between the supernatural world that Cas belonged to and the very real one that Dean was living in. He tipped up his glass and downed the last fiery swallow before facing the patriarch of his remaining family. “He could use a driver’s license and Social Security card.”

Bobby huffed a laugh and turned to watch Cas and Sam with the girls who were washing up dishes and putting away leftovers just out of earshot. “Is that all?”

“Yeah. I don’t have the kind of connections to get him what he needs.”

“I do,” Bobby said firmly, referring to the many shady characters who brought items to his salvage yard and the ex-cons who had worked at the adjoining auto shop over the years.

“I know,” Dean husked as he stepped over to refill his glass. “If there’s anything you can do to help, we’d both appreciate it.”

“Is that it? Anything else I should know?”

There was no forethought… the words just tumbled out of his mouth unbidden. “He’s gonna leave me.”

“Soon?”

“I won’t see it coming. Could be an hour. Could be a year. Could be ten. It’s gonna break me.”

Bobby reached out and rested his arm around Dean’s shoulders in a gesture of reassurance. Solidarity. “Then we’ll be here for ya, son.”

Dean nodded, unable to look at him, but grateful for the reassurance.

When the tension of their little talk had gotten the better of them, they both ambled over to the rest of the family. Most of the work was finished, and Sam was snapping Jess playfully with a wet dishtowel. Their laughter was infectious, and it didn’t take long to distract Dean from his melancholy mood. Bobby seemed to move on from it as well, making sure to get his hands on a few containers of leftover turkey, trimmings and pie.

Soon everyone was bundled up and headed out, exchanging hugs and warm holiday wishes. As Dean and Cas stood in the doorway waving good-bye, the first snowflakes of the season were drifting in on a breeze. By morning, everything was buried.

The boys went out together to shovel the driveway and then came inside to warm their cold fingers around mugs of hot cocoa by the fire. Soon they dropped to the couch together, Dean settled in with his laptop and Cas curled up with a book. Dean reached over their heads and pulled down the soft throw blanket from the back of the couch to cover them.

Outside, the snow had started up again, fat flakes spinning past the window. The living room was warm from the fire and bathed in soft orange light, a sense of peace having settled into Dean’s bones that left him perfectly content. He glanced up from his laptop when Cas wiggled a socked foot up between his legs. “I’m very happy, Dean.”

Dean grinned and winked at Cas. “Me too,” he said as he returned his attention to his writing with a lingering smile on this face.


	10. A Kiss From a Straight Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks to MoniJune for all her work on this story!

In the few weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas, Cas managed to orientate himself to their home. He found his favorite places to read, learned how to use the appliances and even grew adept at both using and cleaning the fireplace. He still spoke stiffly, but he was starting to pick up the use of a few slang words. Sometimes he even used them correctly.

Dean had asked him once why he spoke so formally… especially considering that a lot of what he knew had been learned from a child.

“When I awakened here, I knew every language; much the same as I understood the concept of time and how to keep track of it. I have an innate understanding of many things. But it feels,” Cas paused as if searching for the right words, “rigid. It feels rigid to me. As though I read an instruction manual, like the ones that I read when learning to use the appliances. There is information, but there are missing pieces, gaps in the knowledge. I know the functions, but I don’t understand how it works or why. It seems to be the same with the languages and the other social aspects of humans. I know what they do… but I don’t know how or why. Does that make any sense to you?”

“Um, yeah,” said Dean as he considered it, “I think it does. You have logic but no reason. And for a long time, you only had me to learn from. But I was just a kid and couldn’t teach you shit.” He laughed heartily. “So as you go along, you have to put together the feelings you have and connect them to the information that came built into your…” Dean grinned as he said it, “factory settings?”

“Precisely.”

“So, with language, you know how to speak correctly and just have to pick up the slang and innuendo as you go?”

“Yes, Dean. But has it occurred to you that your use of the language and your impressive vocabulary originated with the time you spent with me as a boy? That you’ve been learning from me as well? That the tales you tell in your books began with our games and our talks in your childhood? Our time together?”

Dean had to hand it to Cas. The man was absolutely right. Dean had been blessed with a clever mind and a vivid imagination. But it was very likely that without Cas to cultivate those things in him… his father would’ve squashed his natural gifts like an unwelcomed bug. He had a lot to be grateful for… a fantastic childhood then, and a happy life with Cas now.

Cas had been quite a force in Dean's life, and he loved the man completely. But his reverence for their relationship didn’t hinder his ability to laugh at Cas’ antics as he got used to living amongst people.

Some things he picked up on quickly… like cooking. Cas loved to smell and taste and experiment in the kitchen. Other things, like learning to drive, were trickier. Teaching Cas to operate a motor vehicle proved much more difficult than getting the driver’s license had turned out to be. An old buddy of Bobby’s at the shop named Rufus had been able to forge a high-quality license for Cas, as well as a fake Social Security card with a number that was reasonably safe to use. It was expensive, but worth it.

Cas had seemed very remorseful when he’d busted the side mirror in the McDonald’s drive thru. But Dean reassured him that it wasn’t anything to worry about, through gritted teeth. At that point, he’d decided to postpone fixing the dent from the ostrich incident as well as the mirror until Cas’ lessons were at an end… just in case there was more damage pending.

It had always been obvious that Cas was nervous during driving lessons, and it only got worse after the mirror. Dean eventually realized that Cas was so jittery about harming Dean's baby that it was hindering his ability to learn, keeping him from being comfortable behind the wheel. So, they borrowed an old junker from Bobby’s scrap yard. The gold ’78 Continental became Cas’ car. Dean promised to buy his man a nice new car when he’d gone a few months without damaging the Lincoln.

Cas was thrilled with this arrangement and climbed behind the wheel to drive it home. Dean followed in Baby and pulled up behind Cas in the driveway. When they climbed out of their cars, Cas was grinning from ear to ear.

“What?” Dean said as he ambled up beside his friend.

“I like it, Dean, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me for that monstrosity…” he teased, “… thank me for the nice one we’re gonna get you in a few months.”

“I think this will be fine Dean. I don’t need a new car. I like this one.”

Dean bit back a smile.

“Will you come for a ride with me, Dean?”

“Sure, Cas,” he said as he walked around to the passenger side, “We’re out of milk anyway. Let’s go get some.”

As Dean settled into the plush, oversized seat, Cas said, “I’m going to feel so much better driving this. I couldn’t handle driving Baby… I was nervous all the time… I know how much you love her.”

“Well, nothing to worry about now,” Dean chuckled. “You couldn’t make this thing any uglier if you tried.”

Cas’ face fell, and Dean immediately felt guilty. No matter how ugly a man’s ride is – it’s part of him and should never be insulted. Dean corrected himself quickly and then complimented how comfortable the seats were. Cas seemed to brighten up again as he started up his gas guzzler and put it in reverse. He smiled warmly at Dean as he began backing out. Bliss lasted about two seconds.

The huge car lurched and the sound of protesting metal screamed in their ears. Cas had backed up into Baby. Dean watched Cas pull forward and curse under his breath. He wouldn’t look at Dean as he sat hunched forward and staring at the steering wheel.

Dean glanced behind him towards his beloved Impala, but gave it no real attention. Cas was more important. He reached out and put his fingers under Cas’ chin, pulling the man’s face to look at him. “Relax, Cas, it’s nothing Bobby can’t fix, ok?”

Cas nodded, unconvinced.

“C’mon man, don’t let this get you down. We’ve all put a dent in our babies at one time or another, ok?”

“Okay, Dean.”

“Alright then,” Dean grinned, “let’s take this bad boy out on the TOWN!”

Cas seemed to accept Deans false enthusiasm as the real deal and began to get excited again. He smiled for Dean as he put the car in reverse. And then proceeded to back into Baby. Again.

It was hard for Dean to pretend he didn’t care about his baby. It broke his heart not to get out and check her over. But when he looked at Cas and saw the expression on his face, he couldn’t help but laugh. Seeing Dean relaxed enough to be laughing seemed to help Cas relax too. Soon they were both laughing.

Cas cranked the wheel and moved around Baby on his third attempt. By the time they were turning into the corner market for milk he was flying high. On the way back to the house, Cas took the long way.

“Ya know,” Dean said, “when you’re experienced enough, I can give you road head in this… like you do for me in my ride.”

Cas’ jaw dropped and his face got red. He turned into their driveway and parked _behind_ the Impala this time. The moment the car was in park, Dean flung himself over the wide expanse between seats and tore at Cas’ zipper. “Give ya a preview…” he mumbled as he exposed Cas’ steadily hardening cock. Then, right there in the broad light of day – in their driveway – Dean sucked his man off good.

It was silent save for the sound of cars passing on the street and Cas’ heavy breathing. Dean loved working on his man’s dick. He pulled his own out of his pants as he went about his licking and sucking, eventually starting to jack himself as Cas got close. Nearby, a dog started barking and a door slammed, signaling a neighbor coming outside. The idea of being seen while engaged in this lascivious act was titillating and it was that thought, more than his clumsy stroking, that finally put him over the edge. With a groan he came over his own fist and swallowed down all that Cas pumped into him.

The two zipped up and did their best to look presentable as they climbed out the car and headed towards the house. They both laughed out loud as they waved to the neighbor lady who was raking leaves next door.

As the winter weather set in for good, the boys started on their holiday shopping. In addition to the buying and wrapping of presents, there was also decorating to do around the house. Dean, as the oldest, had been hosting the holiday get-togethers since the death of his parents. He had boxes and boxes of decorations in the basement. Together he and Cas strung garland around the porch and hung lights from the eaves. They put up a giant tree in the living room next to the fireplace and placed holiday candles in every room.

Time moved quickly as the men settled into domestic bliss, and Christmas Eve found them cuddled in front of a roaring fire. They bent wire coat hangers into long straight lines and pushed marshmallows on the ends to toast. Cas bathed in firelight was a sight to behold, but his introduction to the gooey mess of roasting marshmallows kept Dean laughing, rather than being overcome with lust. Their fingers and lips were sticky when they finished. So they ended the day with a long, hot shower.

The next morning, they woke to a fresh blanket of snow. Dean knew it was a rare treat to have fresh snow on Christmas morning, and the flakes continued to fall as the men worked together to shovel out the driveway for their guests. When Sam and Jess pulled in, they caught Dean and Cas on the ground… making snow angels. Dean put on his manly, grouchy face for a few minutes to counteract the sweetness he’d been caught engaging in. But his crankiness melted away when Cas settled into the crook of his arm on the couch.

They sat around the fire with Sam and Jess until the Singers arrived and then sat down to eat. The ham, potatoes and rolls were all made by Cas, and Dean praised him to the group for his advances in culinary skill while he’d been living here.

Afterwards, they moved back to the living room for presents, and Dean couldn’t force his smile away as he watched Cas open the huge box he’d spent so long wrapping. It was so big that Cas had to stand to open it. When he managed to get the lid off… he giggled. There was another wrapped package inside of it. He lifted it out and tore into it with a wide grin – only to find another present inside.

 “How many are there?” Cas laughed as he began shredding paper like mad.

The next package was quite small, and it had Cas’ full attention as he turned it in his hands to find the seam. He hadn’t even noticed that Dean had gotten down on one knee. But the rest of the room had. Dean could feel it as his family held their collective breath and waited for the big moment.

The wrapping from the tiniest package drifted to the floor next to Dean as Cas slowly opened the hinged box to find a ring inside. He looked up and around, not seeing Dean right away in the deep mess of boxes and wrapping that covered most of the floor. But when their eyes finally met, Dean felt his prickle and tear up. Through a blur he saw Cas’ head tilt as he wondered what was happening. It wasn’t easy but Dean scraped out the words…

“Castiel, you’re the best friend I’ve ever had, and I want you to stay with me forever. Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” he gushed out in a heavy breath as he dropped to his knees with Dean in a sea of colorful papers. They embraced and kissed to the sound of heavy clapping and cheers from their family.

This, Dean hoped, would be the first of many happy holidays together. So it was strange that after a crescendo of such joy, Dean should feel melancholy as they laid in bed that night. Cas was cuddled into his arm and was toying with Dean's fingers.

“What’s troubling you Dean?”

“What makes you think something’s troubling me?”

“I can tell. What is it?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been this happy in my life. But for some reason, I have this cold and empty feeling in my chest.”

Things were quiet for a few minutes and then Cas asked, “Are you having second thoughts Dean? About us?”

“No,” he said quietly, “Not about us being together… but maybe I’m just becoming aware of how much I have to lose now. I mean – I’ve never been happy, Cas. Not like I have been with you. But it’s going to end someday. I mean…,” Dean paused and tried to think of the best way to explain what he was feeling. “Everybody is going to die someday, right? We all know that. But there’s a reasonable expectation for most people that they will live for 70, 80 or 90 years. They know how much time they will have. But you and me? We have no idea. You could be gone tomorrow… just whisked away to another plane where you won’t even remember me. You’ve said it yourself, Cas. You have no idea how any of this really works. I want you to stay forever… but I have this feeling that you won’t.”

Dean pressed his lips to the top of Cas’ head and exhaled, whispering, “I’m gonna lose you Cas. I can feel it.”

Cas was silent for a moment before he replied, “I am connected to you Dean. You are my reason for being. And for being here. But, yes, someday I will move on to another plane. Of that I am sure. I do hope that it won’t happen until your life is over, but I can’t control it. I like to think that perhaps some memory of you will follow me there, but seems unlikely.”

Dean’s heart broke hearing this said aloud, even though he’d known it was true on some level all along. Perhaps sweet Castiel had finally learned to lie. Because the next words that he said were far too hopeful and wonderful to possibly be true.

“Dean, perhaps it is always you. Perhaps there are many planes and dimensions on which our souls are destined to be together. Perhaps when we part it is only to find each other again.”

On the heels of that hopeful sentiment, Dean rolled over onto Cas and made love to him, whispering promises into his ear of how he’d love him forever… even if they didn’t actually have forever to be together.

The feeling of impending doom began to pass as days went by with Cas by his side. They fell into a life together. They talked and planned, they ate and drank, and as the winter dragged on – they hunkered down in their cozy home. Dean had a familiar feeling… the niggling of a story. He tried not to think too much about it, just waiting patiently for it to become more solid in his mind before he started exploring it.

By the time February rolled around, Dean was in full writing mode and had been for almost three weeks. He was engrossed all the time – spending hours at this laptop without speaking or eating. He’d get up and stretch his legs, only to drop back to the keyboard as soon as he’d pissed and grabbed some food.

Cas seemed lonely without Dean’s attentions, but said he understood what was happening. He began to embrace the new regimen and started doing things like bringing Dean his dinner instead of waiting for Dean to come to the table. He’d pop in occasionally with a mug of soup or coffee and kiss Dean sweetly before exiting to the sound of clicking keys.

He cooked and baked, disappearing into the kitchen for hours making increasingly complicated dishes for Dean to try, and bakery quality treats. Dean’s tummy began to grow as they settled into this new routine and Cas patted it often, smiling warmly as he did.

Then one day, Dean stole up behind Cas, who was curled in front of the fire reading. He whispered, “Cas, I’ve neglected you. I’ve been a bad boy – and I need to be punished.”

Cas immediately spun from his seat, hopping right over the back of the couch and into his lover’s arms. They were insatiable that night, both of them proudly wearing the marks to prove it. And when it was over, Cas stroked Dean’s forearm where it wrapped around his neck and whispered, “I’ve missed you, Dean.”

“I’ve missed you too, Cas… why don’t you start planning a trip for us? It’ll be a celebration.”

“What are we celebrating?”

“I’m done.”

“Done?”

“Yeah, Cas. The book. It’s done.”

“Really? Can I read it?”

“Not just yet. I’m done writing. That means I’m no longer consumed by the story. I won’t be driven to sit at the keyboard all day and night like I have been. I’ll have to read it now and make changes – polish it up. But that, I can do on a schedule… just work on it a few hours a day and spend the rest of my time with you.”

“That sounds wonderful, Dean.” Cas smiled, bringing Dean's fingers to his lips and kissing each one, “And then I can read the story once you’ve gone back over it to make your changes?”

“Sure. It’ll still be kind of sloppy until it’s edited. That’s not something I’m involved with. It’ll probably be better if you wait for the edited copy… but I know you won’t.”

“No, I’m too excited to read it. I can’t wait.”

Dean was proud of himself. This was the fastest he’d ever put together a book. He hadn’t had to do much research to write it, and that was part of the reason for his swiftness. But he’d also never been so _inspired_. He’d never had such a deep connection to a character.

Dean didn’t tell Cas that he was the inspiration for the book or that the main character was based on him. But he had a feeling that Cas would know as he read it, and he hoped the man would treasure it as much as he did.

Valentine’s Day was a week away. He’d promised Balthazar that he’d come to his office on Valentine’s and give him the pitch for his new novel. Now, rather than a pitch, he’d be able to simply put a manuscript in his hands. It was a good day to be Dean Winchester.

On the day, Dean woke Cas up the fun way. They lingered in bed afterward, dozing lightly. When they finally got up – they puttered to the kitchen where Cas made them chocolate chip pancakes and fresh whipped cream. Dean leaned in over the table to swipe a small dot of cream from Cas’ nose. Then he planted a kiss in its place.

“I hate to ruin the sickeningly sweet Valentine’s festivities,” announced Dean, “But I have to do something today. And it’s gonna piss you off. You can come with me and watch it… or you can stay here and avoid it. But I’ve given my word, and I have to follow through.”

“What?” Cas asked timidly. “What do you have to do?”

“I have to kiss my agent. I told him that if he’d leave me alone for my vacation, I’d give him a kiss on Valentine’s. I even agreed to let him film it, so I’m pretty sure it’s gonna wind up on YouTube. Figured I better warn you. Don’t wanna spend tomorrow playing fetch all goddamn day.”

Cas dropped his head into his hands and laughed at the reminder of his day as a husky.

“I have a plan to get out of it,” Dean said, “but I don’t know that it’s gonna work. I may have to just do it.”

“And you don’t mind if I come with you?”

“Nope. In fact, I’d love to see Zar’s face when he sees a man wearing my ring.”

Cas drove them in his beast of a car. He was getting to be quite a skilled driver, navigating the winter's ice and snow like an expert. The drive into Kansas City took longer than usual because of the blowing snow, but they managed to make it on time. Cas guided his pimpmobile into a spot in the parking garage, and they linked hands as they walked. They took the elevator up, and Dean didn’t let go of Cas’ hand, even when they were standing in front of Donna’s desk.

“Hiya Dean!” she smiled brightly. “Weather not too much for ya? He thought you’d use that as an excuse to miss the meeting. But not me! I knew you’d come… you betcha!” She looked questioningly at Cas, which Dean took as his cue to introduce them.

“Cas, this is Donna Hanscum. She is Zar’s personal assistant. Donna, this Castiel. Cas is my fiancé,” he said proudly.

She blinked twice and then glanced down to notice their joined hands for the first time, “Oh my… I’m stunned… congratulations!”

“Thank you, Donna. Is he ready for me?”

“Not yet, you can have a seat and I’ll come getcha when he’s ready. He’s got folks in there settin’ up a camera,” she giggled. “Gonna make a big deal outta this… darn tootin!”

Dean looked at Cas and rolled his eyes. They settled into chairs to wait and were soon shown to Zar’s office. There was a single camera on a tripod, and its operator was grinning and smacking gum. Dean moved across the room to shake hands with Zar and then he and Cas settled into seats. Dean leaned forward and placed a thumb drive on Zar’s desk.

“I’ll save you the pitch,” he said confidently. “Just read the book. It’s a bit different than anything else I’ve done. Hope you like it.”

“What is it?”

“It’s the story of a wide-eyed and curious young boy who finds a little purple octopus and puts it in his pocket. It becomes his friend, riding happily in his pocket and finding out about the human world. Later, we will find that he’s not really an octopus but is actually an alien and he’s gotten the warmest welcome from this boy. I don’t want to give away the ending, but let’s just say there will be sequels. And they will be a lot more in line with the feel of my other books.”

“So let me guess… the octopus isn’t friendly after all?”

“As usual, you’re barking up the wrong tree, Zar. But lemme just tell ya this… the ending? You’ll never see it coming.”

“I can’t believe you’re just done… finished.”

“Yeah. You should leave me alone more often.”

“Ouch,” he said with a flourish, using his hands to drive an imaginary dagger into his chest. “Cut me deep, my friend, cut me deep.”

“Want a kiss to make it better?” Dean offered – glancing at Cas.

Zar walked around his heavy mahogany desk to stand in front of Dean. He leaned back on the desk and raised his chin. Dean noticed that the camera man had come to attention and was now following Zar with the lens. He stood then, pressing into Zar’s space. He smiled his most friendly smile and pulled something from his jacket pocket, slowly opening his fist between their chests to reveal a foil wrapped Hershey’s kiss.

“A kiss for you Zar. From your straight friend.”

Grasping the joke, Zar was slow to respond. Clearly he felt slighted, but he seemed unsure of whether to press the issue.

Dean looked over at the camera man and winked.  Then he reached for Cas and pulled him up from his seat.

“Zar, I’d like you to meet Cas… soon to become Castiel Winchester. Cas, this is my agent, Zar. You’ll get to know him well. He considers it his job to pester me. And he’s good at his job.”

Zar nodded his understanding and Dean could see he was taking in the news and trying to figure out how to react. He had to be tactful, of course. And Dean could see that he was a bit hurt too. But he recovered quickly, popping the chocolate into his mouth and turning to also wink at the camera.

The three laughed together, though it was a bit strained from Zar’s end.

As they headed back to the car, Cas looked at Dean and said, “I feel so bad for him. He waited so long… I know what it feels like to want to kiss you, Dean… it’s agony to wait. And a promise is a promise. Maybe you should just go back up there and do it.”

“Really, Cas?” Dean grumbled, disbelieving, “really?”

“Yes Dean. I won’t even watch. I’ll just… wait here.”

Dean nodded and turned back towards the offices. Cas spent the next eight minutes staring at his watch and pacing by his car. When the elevator doors opened up and Dean stepped out, he was red in the face and he burst out laughing the moment their eyes met.

“Let’s go,” Dean said as he climbed in the passenger side, “this day is too fuckin weird.”

“I’m glad you took pity on him, Dean.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll remind you that you said so… when the video has gone viral.”

Cas nodded and started up the car. “Do we have time for a stop?” he asked as they rolled out of the parking ramp, “There’s something we need to pick up.”

“Sure, Cas, what do we need?”

“Tennis balls,” he answered with a playful grin, “and maybe a Frisbee.”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please consider leaving feedback, I'd love to know what you thought. :)
> 
> I have other works on A03; you can find the pictures and summaries for many of my stories on [Tumblr](http://rachwill.tumblr.com//)
> 
> The art masterpost for this fic can be found [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8235163)
> 
> And remember, Cole's art can be found at [Tumblr](http://koisocks.tumblr.com/)


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